Two Plants and a Girl
by Thunk
Summary: Complete Meryl becomes more important to Vash than he wants to admit. But Knives sees it. Knives capitalizes on it. But he finds it increasingly difficult to exploit the Insurance girl, for reasons far too old, and not buried deep enough…KMV
1. Chapter 1

**5-10-04 - This fic is DONE! For now, anyways. :P   
Okay. Heads up. I combined some of the shorter chapters, which is why you only see 18 now instead of 21 installments. No I didn't remove anything. Everything is still there. Just revised some of it. :) And for warnings? There are none. I overrate my fics to be safe is all. **

This is no doubt a cliché start, since it seems the most natural course to take with these two characters. Picks up after the anime (not the manga!) left off. Allow me to make the disclaimer that I have only read three Trigun fics - all of which are deleria's, and all of which are very well-written. 

cough cough SPEAKING of deleria... 

This fic is **inspired** by, **because** of, and **dedicated** to my darling deleria, who is currently in hiding from the FPA (Fangirl Prevention Agency) for the over-exposure of kick-ass anime to an unsuspecting Thunk... 

* * *

**Chapter 1**

  
  
_There…we…go…_ Meryl gave a self-satisfied nod and jerked the frying pan with practiced precision, flipping its meaty contents onto the plate. Hot-house vegetables followed in a garnished fashion alongside the salmon, with rock salt seasoning it just enough… 

_Done._

She stuck her bottom lip out and blew obsidian bangs off her sweat-beaded brow. A hot meal. Every time, a hot meal. She'd learned Knives preferred his food that way…not because he ever _said_ so. He never said anything at all, actually. The silent treatment was even given to Vash. But it was the only method of preparation that would entice his palate enough to clear his plate. 

"Aaahh! That smells so good, ma'am!" 

Meryl smiled. Good 'ole Milly. It _did_ smell good. "Hey Milly, have you seen Vash?" 

Milly's eyes disappeared in her smile, as she readied an envelope for their employer. "He went down to the pub, ma'am." 

The pub. With the big-breasted fillies, and copious amounts of booze. Meryl's smile straightened. _Ugh. Such a playboy…_ Then she considered the state he was in _before_ he'd returned with his brother. The smile returned. _But at least he's back to his old self…_ Truth was, she'd rather see him immersed in his fondling, goofy-grinned antics all day long, than in another bout of hiccupping hysterics of depression. 

"Do you want me to go get him, ma'am?" Milly asked. 

"Nope." Meryl steadied the plate on one hand, grabbed a bottleneck with the other, and made her way to the back room. "I got it." 

Her hesitation to go in that room lessened each time. It had been a month since Vash showed up on that fated afternoon, with the body of his long-lost brother slumped over his shoulder. Knives had lost so much blood from the bullet holes that peppered his limbs, her gut reaction was that there was no way he would survive. 

That was her gut reaction. Her second reaction was that he was Vash's brother. So yeah, he pulled through. Seven days of unconsciousness, with Vash steadfast and vigilant by the bedside, and Meryl steadfast and vigilant by Vash, and Milly steadfast and vigilant by Meryl… 

A team effort. 

And when his eyes fluttered open, they all held their breath. Odd that they wanted him to live so badly, when he'd just spent the past 130 years trying to destroy mankind… But the townspeople didn't know that. Milly didn't even know that. Which meant this 'salvaged prisoner' – as Vash had told everyone he was - was getting a second chance, and Meryl was going to help Vash to help _him_, if it was her last and only calling in life. 

She rapped the door with her knuckles her usual three times before barging in. Her smile came easily. She'd been given to cheeriness ever since she knew the Stampede had come to terms with his past and his future. It was emotionally healing, even for her. Almost like she'd finally matured into the person she was supposed to be, all along. "I've got your lunch, Knives." 

No answer. As expected. She slowly entered, giving herself a moment to adjust to his appearance. The two men…er, whatever they were…looked so much alike, that she had to make a conscious effort not to fall into the same behavior patterns she used with Vash. 

Knives was a homicidal maniac, after all… 

A homicidal maniac who was sitting up in bed, sheets to his waist, and an upper musculature that wouldn't quit, despite a month's neglect. It was easier to maintain her passively polite composure, she decided, when he was covered up, laying down. But at least he never looked at her. Or spoke to her. It was almost like caring for a comatose victim. 

_Almost_. 

She walked over and placed his food on the tray next to his headrest, refilling his water glass with bottled water. Her presence always seemed to repulse him, human-hater that he was. An extra twitch of the lips, or a narrowing of his eyes... The moment Knives was mobile, she didn't doubt he'd be out of there faster than a cat with its tail on fire. But until then, there was a chance. And if there was a chance, there was hope... 

"You came at the right time, Knives," she started, preparing herself for another one-sided conversation. "Milly tapped into probably the purest and most abundant water source on the planet. The food grown with it tastes better, the fish grown in it are larger..." 

As she expounded on trivialities, she used the opportunity to observe his visage. His hair had grown a full inch in the past 30 days, those uniquely silver strands spiked about in a fashion less soldierly, and more messy. Vash had been shaving his face, so he still looked well-manicured. But definitely different. Perhaps it was the small creases in the corners of his narrowed gray eyes, or the set frown that weighted down his chiseled face and perfect complexion… But Knives seemed more alive, today. 

_Though I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing._ As though he'd shifted from indifference about being alive, to angry about it. Pride was a funny thing, and she didn't doubt that Vash the Stampede had bruised plenty of it for Knives. Knocked him off his superior high horse, and shot his body into damn-near quadriplegia. Then they'd humiliated him further by nursing him back to health with more love and nurturing than the poor being could probably stomach. 

As soon as his body regenerated, his self-confidence would be next. She just hoped his soul could heal before he redefined himself as humanity's greatest scourge. 

"…so I imagine if any place has the capacity for growing a green world, it's this town. Irrigation ditches have already been dug throughout the residences, enabling people to try and start their own gardens. We're crossing our fingers," she said, lightly touching his thigh out of conversational reflex. 

He winced with a hiss. Meryl withdrew her hand in alarm. _What…?_ He looked at her. Actually LOOKED at her. And oh, he was angry. Glared silent accusation at her for touching him until she gulped. _Am I that disgusting to you?_ she almost asked, but then she noticed it. Her eyes bounced back and forth between his thigh and his face. "You're still in that much pain?" she asked. 

His scowl deepened, but he said nothing. She was about to interrogate further when a red blotch formed in her peripheral vision. She looked down and blinked shock. The wound on his thigh was bleeding. Straight through the bandages and onto the sheets. 

"Oh, my…" She reached to pull the sheets down when he caught her hand in an iron grip. Her breath caught. Heartbeat quickened in panic. The animosity bled off him in waves as he glared daggers at her face. But Meryl checked it, realizing that fear just fit the insulting stereotype he'd pegged her with from the get-go. No point in adding fuel to the fire. Besides, what could he possibly do in _this_ state? 

Her lips pursed as she let her arm go limp. His fingers were crushing hers. Gathering her courage, she frowned back at him. "You do realize that you're making more contact with me right now, than you would have had you just let me change your bandange... Right?" 

How could anyone look so condescending? It's a good thing she was so self-assured, or she might have left right then. With a jerky toss, he released her. 

"You can let your brother tend to it, though from what I've seen, his touch is a little more clumsy that mine." Exasperated, she cocked her head to the side and held her hands in a placating gesture between them. After a long moment, he exhaled tensely through his nose and looked away. If she was reading his body language correctly, he just basically told her to hurry the hell up. 

This time, she met no resistence. Ever-cautious of his state, Meryl gingerly reached up and pulled the sheet down to observe the bandage. She immediately set about to sanitizing the area and replacing it with more gauze. He stiffened at her touch, his hands clenching into fists. But he tolerated it. 

"I'll be quick. Promise." She said, wondering why the hell the bullet holes had opened back up after all this time of being bed-ridden. Vash would be worried. She was worried. "I don't…I don't understand," she muttered to herself as she gently unwrapped his swollen, fevered leg. "It's been so long, and your kind heals so quickly compared to ours. It's almost as though you…" she stopped, looked at his face, and knew. "You tried to walk today." 

His eyes widened marginally, and his frown deepened, but he kept his gaze fixed on the window. 

_I guessed right..._ She could have gone off on how he was foolish to try it so soon. On how if he would have just asked for help, then it might not have been so bad. 

But she didn't, because she understood. Meryl snorted, continuing her administrations. "It's no wonder after being cooped up in here for so long," she said quietly. "You must be going absolutely crazy, looking at the same four walls, and the same two faces… I probably would have tried the same thing." Actually, if someone had shot _her_ limbs through the bone, then she wouldn't have lived long enough to try. But Meryl left that part out. "If only there was a way for you to heal faster." 

He flinched as the old gauze unstuck from his skin, and bit his lip when she washed his wound with the sanitizing solution. 

"Sorry, sorry!" she said. "Almost finished." Off with the old, on with the new. She noticed something right then, thinking of all the wounds Vash had survived. Her observation came trickling off her lips before she thought to stop it. "You know, I would think that your brother has a higher tolerance for pain than you do," she said, not noticing how his lip curled, or eyebrow twitched. "But then if you look at his personality, you realize that he just embraces pain more than most. Almost like a form of self-punishment." 

There was a pause, and then Knives snorted, "He's an…idiot." 

Meryl froze. Looked up at him. Blinked. _He…spoke!? Be cool, girl. Be cool. _"Tell me about it," she responded turning her attention back to his leg, trying to continue as casually as if they'd been talking this entire time. "He's the biggest doofus I know. The most stressful friend I've ever had." 

Silence followed as she finished securing the new bandage around his thigh. Now that his injuries weren't distracting her, she realized how much of his body was showing. Blood rushed to her face as she tugged the sheet back up over his hips. It didn't help knowing that he was looking at her. Hell. She could feel his gaze boring into the top of her skull. 

Sucking up her breath, she looked at him and smiled. "All done--" 

"And you stil..._bother_," Unused for 30 days, his voice was as dry and gravelly as the arid planet they lived on…like nails on a chalkboard. She nearly choked. 

"Wh…what?" 

"With..._him_." 

"I…" _He's talking to me! He's talking to me!_ But what a question. One she still had trouble answering, herself. Meryl tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, and chewed thoughtfully. Nothing was simple when it came to Vash. All she knew…really…was that… "It…it _feels_ right. Being with him. Helping him." She smiled at him ruefully, and shrugged. "For all the havoc that follows your brother, he abides by a law greater than all of us…a law that isn't bound by people or customs. I…I believe in him. I believe in the future he wants." 

For a moment it seemed as though he forgot he was supposed to be bitter. Those piercing, ancient but beautiful eyes were locked on her face. Studying her in some sort of…recognition? Meryl felt the blood rush to her face. _What…what are you searching for, Knives?_

After what seemed an unbearably long moment, he broke the trance with a derisive snort. "What. Love and Peace?" he spat the words out with obvious contempt. "Then you're a...fool...as well. I could kill you with my mind...woman. Right now. Wouldn't...even have to lift a... finger." 

Now _this_ was more like the type of conversation she expected from the malevolent Knives, which was why she was able to meet it without batting an eyelash. 

"Yes. I'm sure you could." 

Pause. His arrogance cracked at her flippant response. He'd obviously expected her to tremble in her boots, or something. His lip curled, "Moron told everyone...what I am..." 

She shook her head. "No. Just me." 

A furrow in his brow. Confused resentment. More emotion she'd seen in his face than the entire last 30 days. His voice became stronger. "Then you know what my goals are. You know what I've already done to your people." 

"Yes." 

"And you're sitting here, nursing me back to _health_..." His jaw clenched, and beneath his projected ire was an undisputable question – _Why?_

She locked stares with him, and placed her hand on the bed, feeling no less confident about her involvement in all this. "I also know what humanity has done to _your_ people, Knives," she countered firmly, "what we're _still_ doing to them…" her throat constricted thinking of the torture inflicted on the sentient beings locked inside the energy plants. Beings like pure-hearted Vash. She might have said more, but what could she say? That she wished like crazy they could find an alternative way of freeing them, without wiping out her kind in the process? 

He'd scoff at her. Just like he scoffed at his brother. 

Her last comment had stumped him, though. His mouth parted absently, while his eyes widened a fraction, looking at her face in a state of bewildered disbelief. 

She held his gaze. _Yes, I see both sides of it, Knives. All on my own, unlike your other human lackeys whom you had to brainwash into coercion. _

He exhaled in a light cough, his brow creasing. Meryl cursed herself. It was a direct mental thought with a direct living recipient. He probably heard her. _I've got to be more careful…_

A moment later, he closed off his communication valve, folded his bandaged arms across his chest and went back to staring out the window, stone-faced as ever. Accepting his dismissal, Meryl dusted her knees off and stood. 

It was just starting to sink in…that their genocidal, anti-human, mute patient had just acknowledged her presence. Had spoken to her, no less. She needed to get out of there before the surrealism of the moment made her lose her composure and freak out. 

"Eat your salmon before it gets cold," she said politely. "And Knives, I…" she wasn't comfortable saying it, but it felt like the right thing to say… "I'll…do everything I can to help you heal. I mean that. So if you need anything…" 

His brow raised a millimeter, but that was the only sign that he'd heard her. Meryl nodded reflexively and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. When it was closed, she leaned back against it, and exhaled in a 'hooo boy…' 

_Well THAT was unexpected…_

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Hi hi hi!" Vash smiled hugely as he wiggled into the apartment, his arms wrapped around two protesting paper bags. With an umph, he kicked the door shut behind him…which jolted his goodies. With an panicked exclamation, and clumsy expertise, the Stampede hackey-sacked two pastries and a strip of beef jerky up to his head, balanced them for a moment, and let them fall back into the bags. 

"Insurance girls, I'm ba-aack!" 

No response. Vash's smile broadened. _I bet they went to help dig more irrigation ditches, those two. Such good gals…_ He didn't even bother to stop in the kitchen, waltzing all the way to his brother's room in back. 

"Yo, Knives!" He turned the doorknob, and barged in. "Knives! You're going to love these…" Vash went right over, and sat on the chair next to his brother's bed, and started pulling out cream-filled donuts. 

Knives was sitting up, with his arms folded across his chest, staring mutely out the window. Like always. Vash grinned on, undeterred. 

"They just got a new chef at the pub down the block. And oh! She's so good!" He dumped doughnuts on the tray until it was overflowing. "She's pretty, too. I think I cleared out her entire counter…" he laughed ruefully, and sighed. "And I think I cleared out my money stash, too. Good thing the insurance girls are here, or we'd be out of house and home, with nothing to eat!" He held up a pastry. "Want one?" 

Knives didn't even budge. Vash shrugged, and ate it himself. "Maybe I can…do some…guard work for the local bank, again," he began with his mouth full, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, "Not that there is any crime, but—" 

"Vash." 

He stopped. Stared. _Knives…?_

"You're so easy to read, Vash." 

Vash froze. That tone... Cold. In control. So like it was 30 days ago. So like it had always been. Vash's smile straightened, and his shoulders tensed. He'd spent all this time, trying to crack Knives' shell…trying to soften him up. Trying to get him to talk. But not with _that_ voice. Anything but that voice… 

He swallowed his food in one giant gulp, as a forming dread teased the edges of his consciousness. "A…am I?" He asked. 

"I know why you let that one stick around, now." 

A knot formed in Vash's stomach, and he clenched his hands into fists. The old crazed gleam flickered in his brother's eyes, and a sneer tweaked the corners of his lips. The bed-ridden male faced him, smiling. And after 130 years of knowing him, Vash knew that when Knives smiled, it was never a good sign. 

"I don't…I don't know what you're talking—" 

"Tsk tsk, Vash. I think you do," he chuckled darkly, taking obvious delight in Vash's discomfort. "She's not quite as naïve. And her temperament is stronger," he grabbed some jerky off the tray, tapped it at his lips in mock thought. "But her idealism, her mannerisms… Her _face_…" he winced at some internal memory, and his eyes flashed with recognition. "She reminds you of Rem, doesn't she?"

* * *

Meryl threw the shovel's contents to the side, and straightened her back, wincing as it cracked in three different places. She blew her breath out in a long whistle and looked back at her work. She'd dug almost fifteen feet. Fifteen! No wonder she felt so exhausted. The city planning had mapped it all out, and the town's residents were eager. With all their volunteers, just a couple more weeks, and it should be finished. 

"How ya doin' back there, little lady?" asked an older, gray-haired man a couple yards ahead, enlisted in the same cause. 

"Ah, I'm fine," she smiled, wiping her face with dirty hands. "Just taking a quick—" a large shadow loomed over her from behind, "breather…" Meryl turned around and squinted to see against the sun's glare. The sky's beams silhouetted him black as he towered over her, hiding his expression. But she knew that spiky hair, those combat boots, that flanking trench coat anywhere… 

"V-Vash?" 

His posture was anxious. As though he'd run to get there. She stuck her shovel in the ditch, and leaned heavily on it. "It's about time you showed up to help," she panted. "We got old men, old women, and even children over here digging this ditch, and here you are, lollygagging in the bar with—" 

He surprised her by reaching down and grabbing her elbow. "Come with me." Without excuse or apology, he yanked her out of the ditch. 

"Hey! What do you think you're--" 

Before she could decipher his mood, that annoying plastic grin stretched his lips, shutting the windows to his soul behind closed eyelids. "There's a street vendor down here that's selling…some goods you need!" he rattled in false cheer, raising his hand from her elbow to her upper arm, curling his long fingers firmly around her bicep. 

Meryl blinked up at him in a state of suspicious confusion. That ridiculous eye-disappearing smile was never genuine. "Street…vendor?" 

"He's leaving town in an hour!" he chimed merrily without turning around. 

"I'm filthy, you goof!" 

"No filthier than that guy digging next to you!" 

She would have smacked her forehead, had she not needed her other arm to balance herself as they ran this imaginary race. "Give me a break! What could this guy possibly be selling that I need?" 

Pause. His grip tightened. "Something along the lines of self-preservation." Before she could ask another question, he quickened his step. "Hurry." 

Meryl found herself running to keep up with his long strides. "What are you up to Vash the Stampede?" she called out, waving a quick rueful hello to the bar tender as they went trotting past. "Trying to ditch me so you can relocate again?" 

He laughed nervously, giving her a brief profile, sweat drop beading down the side of his face. Meryl would have continued to argue but his uncharacteristic overbearance left her feeling a little stupefied. Anxious. 

He led them through alleyways, and down narrow streets…directly south. To the edge of town. Every time she'd pester him to slow down, he just laughed in that taught, noncommittal way. They passed the boundaries of the town, and started marching through the hot sand of the arid desert. 

"Alright, Vash. Where the hell is this vendor you've been telling me about?" she asked, huffing along. 

"Right up there." 

"Up where?" 

"Over there!" 

"I don't see—" her words caught as he abruptly spun her behind a random rock outcropping. She yelped, bouncing against the sandstone none-too-gently. "What are you--?" 

His hand clamped on her mouth then, and his fake jolly expression suddenly turned very _very_ serious. The corners of his lips curled down to reveal clenched teeth, his eyes slanted heavily, and for one of the few times since she'd met him – Vash actually _looked_ his age. 

"He shouldn't…be able to hear us, out here," he uttered, lifting his chin to peer briefly over the edge of the bouldered terrain. 

Meryl tried to ask, 'Who?', but his hand was still covering her mouth. She could taste the salt on his palm, could smell his sweat… She'd never really been this close to him before. Not like this. After an unnerving moment of watching him visibly worry, he exhaled heavily, rubbed his brow with his forefinger and thumb, and locked her in his emerald stare. 

"Vash…?" 

"You have to leave." 

She blinked. That tone... She'd heard it before, and she knew why he used it. Meryl's limbs froze with the onset of fear, but her mind wasn't so quick to accept imminent danger. "Wh-why?" 

His lips pursed, and his brow knotted in the center. After a few seconds of watching him battle some inner struggle, Meryl began guessing. 

"Does…does it have something to do with Knives speaking today?" 

"He spoke to you?" 

Pause. Nod. "Not much…" 

"What did he say?" 

"He called you an idiot. Called me a fool," she gathered her wits enough through Vash's disturbing behavior to remember. "Didn't seem to understand why I was helping him, after everything he's done to the human race…" 

Vash studied her with that unnervingly perceptive expression. The one that he kept hidden behind his smile most of the time. "You have to get out of here," and then at her dubious expression, he added. "You're in danger." 

"Danger?" she asked, wondering how it was that she'd somehow missed the peril vibe. "From your brother?" 

He grimaced in that familiar, wounded way, and hung his head. "It's…it's not your fault. I…I was so hopeful when I brought him back, that I didn't think…think he'd notice…" 

His honesty was almost overwhelming. He was never this generous with his true feelings. Meryl resisted an abrupt urge to embrace the man that she'd grown so fond of over the past year, and instead grabbed his hand in hers. "…notice what?" 

He was quiet. 

"Look, Vash," she began, going with her instincts, coupled with a strong vibe to stay by his side. "I'm not going to let you scare me away. Especially when I think you're wrong about Knives." His head snapped up in muted appall, but she ignored it. "The impression I got from him was angry. Bitter. But not threatening--" 

He uncharacteristically grabbed her shoulders, and shook her. "You're not safe! He's noticed you, don't you realize that? He's singled you out!" 

"He's singled out the entire human race! Why am I any diff--?" 

"Meryl!" 

He said her name. The world stopped. 

"Because…you just _are_." His face softened the same time his words hardened. "You're leaving this place, and if you don't go willingly, then I'll remove you by force." 

She was losing the battle, his will overpowering hers by a landslide. "But…I don't…" 

He surprised her utterly then, by bracketing his long arms across her shoulderblades, and tugging her to him in a suffocating embrace. "I can't risk it," he whispered emotionally. "I can't risk _you_…"

* * *

_I can't risk you…_

He had clammed right up after that. Had let go of her, leaving her winded, and snapped right back into, 'Get-out-here-now-mode', as though it were a foolish mishap letting his emotions slip out like that. 

His emotions. Concerning her. It made the blood rush to her face. First and foremost, because he actually _had_ some. Straight set her heart on fire. She knew he'd finally…_reluctantly_ accepted her friendship, if nothing else because she insisted on tagging along. But the intensity in his eyes when he hugged her out there… She'd become separate, somehow, from the rest of the human race. She was different. To him. Meryl was sure of it. 

But exactly why, she didn't know. And he wouldn't tell her, dammit. Was there something spectacular about her involvement here that she was unaware of? Was it…more than that? She kept wondering what would have happened if he didn't go back into commando-mode, and left his heart open just long enough… Egads, the blood was rushing to her face again. 

_Stop it, Meryl,_ she pinched the inside of her arm, batting away an invasive visual of what it would be like to kiss Vash the Stampede. _Utterly inappropriate. Business first. _And then more soberly, _I can't believe he's making me leave him…_

Meryl sighed heavily and zipped up her last bag and hucked it to the floor. She was in the process of kicking the bedpost when familiar heavy footsteps clumped in the room. 

"Vash just told me they've called us back, ma'am…" 

Milly stood anxiously in the doorway, with her wide eyes, and curious mouth. She had dirt smudges smeared on her cheeks, and was covered head to toe in soot from digging. Meryl was about to comment on her state, when she realized that she was no better off. They both could use a bath. 

"Ma'am?" 

"Mm?" 

"Did they?" 

Lying was so hard, Meryl skirted around it with a truth. "I wish to God I had never seen him as more than an assignment, Milly." She rested her head in her hand, and shook it. Milly was quiet. Observant. Two seconds later, Meryl 'umph'd' as Milly picked her up off the floor in a big bear hug. 

"I'm so sorry, ma'am!" she cried. "I know how you feel about him—!" 

"M-Milly…" Meryl squeaked, her arms crushed to her sides. "It's…o-okay…" 

"It's so tragic, I just wanna cry with you!" 

"M'not…_crying_…" 

"We can quit! I'm sure we could find a job here—" 

"MILLY!" 

She stiffened. "Ma'am?" 

"Put…me…down!" 

The taller woman quickly set Meryl on her feet, stepping back in question as Meryl leaned over, gasping for breath. If there was anything larger than her co-worker, it was her co-worker's heart. "Thank you…for your concern…Milly," she panted, trying to regain her composure. "But you'd better start packing. You know how paranoid they get…when we're late." 

She could feel her comrade's disappointed stare for three more seconds before she begrudgingly set about to collect her stuff. Meryl did her best to avoid eye contact. If anyone could read her, it was Milly. The woman had a knack for singling out issues, dead on…an uncanny ability to dance on the surface of life, while being in tune with its deepest complexities. 

If she started interrogating, then Meryl would lose the thin control she had. The control she promised Vash she'd have, so Knives couldn't read her mind. It had taken a good deal of arguing for him to let her return and get her equipment in the first place. He was going to exile her, outright, for crying out loud! It wasn't until she threw Milly in the mix, that he reluctantly let her return. And even now, he was camped downstairs, waiting. Ever watchful, ever paranoid, ever protective… 

Milly shuffled out of the room to start carrying the luggage down. Meryl shifted to join her when her eyes were drawn to the yellow-stained wall of their room. She stopped. Stared. On the other side of it was the reason she was leaving, as wounded and bedridden as an old woman with a broken hip. Meryl's brow knotted in the center, imagining his face through the wallpaper…so similar to his brother's with the high cheekbones, and large prism-like eyes, that reflected more light than shadow… How could anyone related to Vash be so evil? It didn't compute. _He_ didn't compute. Hell. Neither of them did-- 

_I'll…do everything I can to help you heal. I mean that. So if you need anything…_

Meryl froze. It was in her head. Her words. A familiar voice. In mock imitation of her own… 

_That was the last thing you said to me, wasn't it? Meryl?_

Meryl took a step back, staring shock at the wall. Her heart started slamming the breath from her lungs. "_Kn…Knives…_" she breathed, holding a shaky hand to her lips. Telecommunicating. That's what Vash had called it. He was telecommun-- 

_Ah. So you _are_ afraid of me._

"I'm…" She swallowed, took a deep breath and tried to calm her tremors. This was the invalid, here. Maimed emotionally and physically. His capacity for danger at the moment seemed next to nothing. "No, I'm not," she said, feeling her confidence start to return. Boy, if Vash found out they were talking— 

_Then why are you leaving?_

Meryl wondered how the hell she was going to possibly lie when he was in her head. She hated this. She hated having her mind invaded. The words, 'My employer,' were on the tip of her tongue when his heavy sigh echoed between her ears. 

_Typical human. Your word is worth nothing…_

Meryl flinched. _Ouch_. 

_Ouch, indeed._

"Vash is here. He's all you need." 

He was silent. 

"Besides, it can't be much longer before you're up and about, anyhow. I don't see how my leaving early will impair your healing process…" 

More silence. He was such a damn mystery! Was he _trying_ to make her feel guilty? Well, it was working, if he was… From the sound of it, Knives had expected her to bail. He had expected her to go back on her words. And the knowledge quickly made her backpedal on being coerced to leave. Meryl bit her bottom lip as her thin resolve weakened. She DID say she'd help him heal… 

Meryl went down the mental checklist of things that generally kept people from endangering their lives. She had no children. No husband. No life, really. Just a job to do. And her job was 'Risk Prevention', damn it all, and if that didn't entail showing a homicidal human-hater that humans weren't so bad, after all, then… 

_Alright, Knives_, she sent mentally, sensing already that his motives regarding her were ulterior. _What do you want from me?_

Long, deliberate pause. _Get me out of here._

__

* * *

****

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

_I can't believe I'm doing this, _Meryl thought crazily as she fisted the reigns to her chest, frantically urging the desertquat forward. _I can't believe I'm betraying Vash!_ Oh it was a good thing the Stampede wasn't well-versed in reading minds too, because she was broadcasting some serious noise right about now. 

She'd snuck back into the outskirts of town, and waited for a full half-day before Knives sent her a mental command. One with very clipped words that informed her Vash had left for the bar. 

And to hurry up. 

So she did. When that happened, the sun had just gone down. Everything up until now had been so well-orchestrated. She fessed up to Milly about Vash insisting she was in danger, two weeks ago. And then, she concocted this great speech for their employer, about how the Stampede was neutralized, and how an even greater disaster magnet was out there. Hazard Incarnate. In short, they split her and Milly up at her adamant request, reassigning Milly to watch over the Stampede and sending Meryl out with enough financial backing to buy a ride… 

A ride she was straddling right now, in the form of an over-sized bird. Mery clicked her tongue, halting the feathery beast to a skidding halt as they arrived at the motel, nearly toppling on its neck in the process. She was so dang nervous, that her foot caught on the stirrups as she attempted to dismount, landing her on her head. 

Meryl swore, and scrambled until she was upright, rubbing the growing lump with a grimace. "Agh, Meryl. Such a spaz…" Slightly disoriented, and in way more haste than her scattered nerves could handle, she turned and bolted towards the entrance, only to crash right into a man on the other side of the door. 

"Ah! Excuse—" 

He gripped her shoulder tightly, and grunted in pain. She muffled a quick apology and made to run past him when his hold tightened enough to make her grimace in shock. Meryl jerked her shoulder back, her jaw dropping in indignation at this stranger's audacity. 

"Look! I said I was so…rry…" she looked up. Gulped. "_Knives…_" 

He was cloaked, with the collar turned up. And through the opening in front, she made out a hastily thrown, unbuttoned shirt, and pajama pants. But his eyes were on fire, and his jaw muscles jumping. Hell. She'd probably just jarred his wounds. Wounds he'd just probably reopened by hobbling by himself down the stairs. 

"Sorry—" 

"The vehicle," he said tersely. 

She nodded. "Right. Well, it's not a vehicle, but—" She opened the door and jerked her chin at the bird. "It's the next best thing." She watched in alarm as his eyes widened and his face paled. His mouth hung part open, an unvoiced objection hanging in his throat. 

"Oh, don't worry," Meryl reassured, "Once she starts running, it's as smooth as flying." 

He peeled his eyes off the bird, and stared at her in an intimidating cocktail of aggravated skepticism. 

She tugged on his arm. "Trust me." 

He stiffened at her touch, and pulled back. "Bring it here." 

Meryl felt her temper flare up. _So damn bossy… Doesn't say 'please',_ she marched over, grabbed the reins, _Doesn't say 'Thank You'_, guided the desertsquat over to where he was leaning against the door frame. _After all the sacrifices I've made…_ "SIT!" she snapped, taking small delight in seeing Knives' startle in her peripheral vision. 

The bird hobbled down, and Meryl turned to him. "The back saddle between the wings is where it rides the smoothest." His eyes fixed on the bird's back, and taking a deep breath, he pushed off the door frame to take three clumsy steps…only to collapse against it. Meryl instinctively lunged forward to stable him. It still seemed like he cringed at her touch, but she was beyond caring. He guilted her into helping him, so help him she would. 

She precariously balanced herself under his right arm, and took some of his weight so he could lift his left leg over the saddle. It was still a reach, and, "Oi, you're heavy," she breathed, helping to situate him well and good in his seat. Knives made no response to that. Surprise, surprise. 

Remembering that Vash could show up at any minute, Meryl jumped on in front of him, and clicked her tongue. The desertsquat ambled to its feet. "Alright, Knives. You never told me where we were going." 

"North." 

"How long until we reach the destination?" 

"All night." 

Vague answers, but at least they were answers. She reached into her bag and handed him a couple pills, and a bottle of whiskey. "Take those, and they should take the edge off the pain so you can sleep—" 

"I don't sleep." 

His expression was set. Condescending. Every vocal response he gave cut off any further attempt at conversation. Meryl was just beginning to comprehend that Knives' constant company was going to be about as delightful as yanking out her own front teeth. 

"It's going to be a loooong night," she uttered, turning around and digging her heels into the desertquat. _For the both of us…_

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Quick note - though I am going off of the anime's ending, I am taking Knives' and Vash's personal history from the manga, because...well, the manga GIVES us an in-depth history. Great stuff to work with. Couldn't pass it by.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The desertsquat needed to rest. They'd been pushing it at a run for nearly four hours, now. Meryl could have slowed it to a trot, but the resulting bounce in its step would put Knives in more pain than she could bear to listen to. He'd been good so far, no doubt credited to his innate stubbornness. But even supernatural tenacity wasn't going to negate the fact that he had four nasty bullet wounds that were still maiming his limbs, and between his increasing hisses and gasps behind her, and the labored breathing of the beast in front of her… 

_Ah, to hell with it._ She gently tugged on the reigns, and eased their ride into a gradual stop. Knives' shaky exhale told her at least his body was relieved for the brief respite, even though his words contradicted it. 

"What…what are you doing?" he growled. 

"I'm stopping." She hopped off their feathery steed, and pulled on its reigns until the thing was squatting. "You both need a break." 

He didn't budge, and she could have sworn she saw his blue, weary eyes light up like a flash light. "Then make the beast trot," he said roughly. 

"But you—" 

"I said I can handle this!" His voice was hot, riddled with more emotion than he no doubt wanted to portray. Which mean that he was probably even in more pain than he was letting on. 

"Please," Meryl rolled her eyes and leaned over him to observe his wounds. "After a few minutes of _trotting_, you'd be weeping." Oh, that made him angry. But…_What do you think you're gonna do, Knives. Bleed on me?_

His lips thinned in a bloodless line. "I heard that." 

Meryl blinked, and her cheeks burned. A reflexive apology hung in her throat, but it didn't quite make it out. "Will you stay out of my head!? I didn't give you permission!" 

His frown deepened. "I don't need permission." 

"Yes," she said, shifting him against his will. "You do." He grimaced, tried to pull away from her, but she placed a firm hand on his chest and looked him right in the eye. "Knives. Twenty minutes. And then we'll be on our way, again." 

He was unwielding for all of ten seconds, before he huffed and rolled his eyes. Taking that as a silent 'go ahead', Meryl cautiously slipped her hand under his torso. "Can you sit up?" 

He exhaled in a scoff, and leaned forward with her help. Meryl eased him gently against her chest, and using balance and leverage, lifted him off the desertsquat, and onto the sand. She suspected his cringing had more to do with her arms wrapped around him than the soreness of his wounds. 

"Eesh. Will you relax?" she asked in exasperation, laying his head in the sand and ambling around to his side. "It's not like I'm poisonous." 

He said nothing, merely peeking at her through narrowed slits. She rummaged through her bag again, and held up the pills and whiskey for a second time. "The desertsquat won't be able to run for a while, Knives. Which means a bumpier ride. I'm not putting you back up there until you've taken these—" 

"I said no." He held her gaze, trying his damnedest to glare her into submission. But Meryl Strife hadn't earned her esteemed position with the Bernardelli Insurance Company by being a pushover. 

"Look, Mister. I am _not_ listening to your whimpering for the rest of the night—" 

"Wh...whimmm..." his jaw muscles spasmed. He almost couldn't say it. _"Whimpering!?"_

Her patience was wearing thin. "Nnnn…ssss! Mmm….ngh! Ngh! Sssssss….." She panted irregularly, contorting her face in small grimaces as she mimicked the sounds he'd been making for the past hour. Point made, she stuck her finger in his face. "Yeah. Whimpering. And it's only going to get worse, especially now that our steed is so exhausted. If you're reluctant because you don't feel you can trust me, then I'd appreciate if you remembered that I just betrayed your _brother_ to keep my promise to _you_, and—" 

He snatched the pills and bottle with an angry jerk, and with a look of death that promised a later flogging, Knives slapped the pain killers in his mouth, washing it down with the 90 proof liquor. Meryl watched in apprehensive relief as the liquid messily sloshed about his chin, trailing little rivulets down his throat, his chest, his abs… _Pig_, she thought as the blood rushed to her face, not about to ponder why her stomach was doing funny things right then. She looked away. "I'm...I'm going to wrap you up before we leave, you know. It's far too cold tonight to go around with a wet chest." 

He tossed an empty bottle in response, his disdainful gaze resting on her until she squirmed. Then he dropped his head back in the sand, and stared at the sky. Sighing heavily, Meryl set about to rewrapping his wounds… 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Meryl rubbed her dusty face with the back of her hand, and squinted through exhausted eyes at the dip on the horizon. It took several seconds for her blurred vision to focus. The blackness of night was just giving way to a rich blue in the western sky, enabling her to see a crater dimpling the desert landscape.… Or more importantly, the remains of a ship that had crashed inside of it. 

_Wow…_ she thought, a spark of energy zig zagging through her lethargic body. _No wonder mankind hasn't located this one yet…_ The geography was so accommodating, that she half-wondered if it was deliberate. If Knives somehow had the power to shape the land. 

After seeing what Vash was capable of, she wouldn't doubt it. 

The sand rose all about the crater, not unlike a small volcano. But from a distance, it seemed little more than one of the many dunes that they'd traversed to get here. But as one got within yarz of it, the pockmark on the landscape became visible, along with its contents. 

"Knives," she tried to say, but her wind-dry voice cracked, emitting little more than formed air. Meryl took a swig from her depleting canteen, swallowed hard, and tried again. "Knives," she croaked, "I think…we're here." 

No response. 

She turned around. His head was rolled back, his body relaxed in the last position she put him in; legs extended, feet resting by her hips up on the sides of her own saddle, with enough packs and blankets behind and around him to prop him up at a comfortable angle. And the poncho she'd tucked him in was still snug. 

_Hn. Just like a baby._

She observed the docile expression on his sleepy face, remembering their one altercation some time around midnight. Six hours ago. The painkillers had worked. Alarmingly well. By the time they saddled up again, he was wincing less. Hadn't said a word for the rest of the trip, and here they were, the following morning, and the man was out cold. Meryl was so darn tired, she could barely sit up straight, and Knives was completely unaware that they'd even arrived. He seemed so pleasant when he was unconscious, that she hated waking him up. 

Perhaps the ride down could do it for her… 

She urged the desertsquat forward, leaning back in the saddle and standing in the stirrups as gravity pulled them into the crater. Its movements were jerky, and with the forward momentum it only took the creature to stumble once, in order to land her passenger practically on top of her. 

Meryl went completely rigid as Knives slumped heavily against her back. His hands flopped on her thighs as his chin hooked over her collarbone. She nearly choked, unable to tell exactly whose personal space was being invaded, but knowing that _some_ violation had definitely just occurred. 

Feeling unbelievably tense, Meryl rode them to the base of the ship. Once there, she turned, gulped, and said the first words she could think of. "Um…hey…" 

His ear twitched. Of course it did. She'd just breathed right on it. He stirred, an inarticulate moan sounding low in his throat. It took him a few moments to crack his sleep-swollen eyes open, and when he did… _Good heavens... And here I thought that stuff would just take the edge off his pain..._

Knives looked like he'd spent the past ten hours hanging upside down. By his toes. His mouth was slack, his expression wary, but far from alert. He blinked. Frowned. She could have sworn he didn't recognize her. Granted, with all the desert sand blowing in her face for the past 10 hours, she might not have been recognizable. And the ever-composed plant was going from confused to panicked. His mouth started fumbling over unvoiced thoughts, no doubt trying to piece together exactly how he'd ended up cuddling with a human. 

"Knives. I...we're...we're here." She jerked her chin at the ship, and had the small satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen in what seemed to be relief. Then he looked back at her. 

"Vash's...woman..." He mouthed, squinted, and then bowed his head on her shoulder, visibly trying to get his bearings. 

"How do you feel?" she croaked, ignoring the title. 

An equally dry, 'keh' was his response. He pushed off her back with a hissing intake of breath, and pointed a shaky finger at what looked like a docking bay just a few yarz ahead of them. "There," he whispered. 

Meryl moved them on, and shimmied them up next to the closed entryway. With a grunt, Knives leaned over, palmed some form of access panel, and the thing slid right open. Meryl might have gasped at the sudden movement, but as it were, her nerves were dulled by lack of sleep. Even the desertsquat didn't startle. 

They were assaulted immediately by cool, moist…Meryl perked. _Moist?_ Yes. The air was moist. A pleasant scented humidity that she hadn't felt…well..._ever_. She eagerly went in, more awestruck with each step. 

It was like a cathedral. A big, mechanical cathedral. The early morning rays rained down in glowing sheets through deliberate openings in the top of the ship. Ethereal. Almost like a dream. And there were mirrors. Lots of mirrors, catching the light, and redirecting it down a hallway a few yarz from them. 

"Go." Knives ordered, and speechless, she did. As they clopped into the enclosed area, Meryl saw the beginnings of vegetation. Vines. They were stretched about the walls like spider webs, reaching for the sun's nourishment like zombies from a tomb. And they were thick, and green, and lush… 

"This is…" she looked down, "Grass! Is that grass??" 

Coarse words, behind her. "Keep going." 

Even the bird marveled at the soft ground. A few more feet, and the hallway opened up into a large, spacious room that instantly reminded Meryl of an old earth topography she'd seen pictures of, called a 'jungle'. Streaking here and there were zig zags of stolen sunbeams to give the foliage life. The foliage that consisted of big, leafy trees, and floral patches that painted delightful little blotches of purple, yellow and red against the dense green… 

And the scent… She just wanted to close her eyes, and disappear in this place. It was like a paradise. Something she had never even dared hoped to see. Meryl sniffled, and swallowed down the lump in her throat. 

"Here. Let me down," he said. 

Still in a daze, Meryl obliged, and sat the bird in order to dismount Knives. She hopped off first, and reached up to help him...only to be ignored. He batted her hand aside, and then with all the expertise of a sloppy drunk, Knives clumsily rolled off the bird and umphed in the grass. 

Lucky for him, Meryl was too stupefied by the current landscaping to do much more than shake her head at his immaturity. If he didn't want her help, then let him pick his own ass up off the ground. With a sigh, her attention quickly went back to the celestial place she was enveloped in. Really. The only thing missing were clouds. "I've…I've never been anywhere so beautiful," she whispered, feeling her eyes sting, as she walked towards a rise in the ground. "Is this on top of a Geo Plant, Knives?" 

He seemed too engrossed in the process of pulling himself up the closest tree, to answer. He was breathing heavily, visibly distressed...not so much at his inability to walk as his current mental state. 

"With as well as your brother holds his liquor, I wouldn't have thought you to be such a lightweight," Meryl mused. 

"Not liquor," he said, clenching his teeth, closing his eyes. "Pain killers." 

"It wasn't _that_ heavy of a dose." 

"Stupid human. Our physiology...is different..." 

_Of all the..._ "What does it do? Make you insufferably stubborn for a day? Because I was under the impression bull-headedness was an intrinsic part of your personality--" 

"Your blasted anesthesia _killed_ Tessla--" he clapped his hand over his mouth then, as though mortified that he'd let something slip out. "Woman," he panted, after several seconds, "Stop asking...me questions!" 

Catching a sliver to some great insight, Meryl persisted. "Why?" 

He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, his brow raised in the center. Dread. There was dread in his eyes. And the barest hint of a plea. 

_My word. Could this mean that...?_ "Who was Tessla?" 

"The...first...of our kind..." 

"How old are you?" 

"One hundred, thirty four." 

"What color is the grass?" 

"Green... Agh!" 

Meryl gaped as this mysterious man sank back to the ground with his head in his hands. He had indeed had taken a gamble when he took those pills. They were working like a bonafide truth drug. The possibilities started ticking off in her mind of the information she could glean from him. It's not like he wouldn't think twice in violating _her_ thoughts. He already had, and he'd no doubt do it again. 

But her mind recoiled. She couldn't bring herself to interrogate him, no matter how much he deserved it. Meryl fisted her hips, and hung her head, toeing some imaginary pebble in the ground. "Lucky for you Knives, I came here to help you get better. Not to tap you for information. So relax, already. I won't go out of my way to drill you." She marched over to him and bent down, tugging on his left arm to drape it over her shoulders. "Now stop treating me like a leper, and let me carry you to wherever it is you can rest." 

He peered up at her in apprehensive irritation, as though gauging her honest intent. But the concentration proved to be too much. Somewhere between three and four seconds, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he shook himself violently to get back into focus. "Get me...to the plant." 

She helped him to stand. "Where?" 

He pointed. At a vine-covered wall. Meryl frowned, but walked them to it, anyhow. This was his home. He might have been a space cadet at the moment, but he at least knew where he was going. When they neared it, he lifted a lethargic limb up to palm something again. Meryl assumed it was another mechanical panel. But then the most amazing thing happened. 

Meryl felt a sudden pulse of energy, being so close to him. It wasn't an electric shock, but it was _something_. A half second later, the foliage around him seemed to vibrate, and shudder into motion. The green tendrils on the wall entwined themselves aggressively down Knives' hand, forearm, bicep... Flowers sprouted from the vines as they curled away from the wall and peeled outwards. It was surreal. In just a matter of seconds, the surrounding vegetation had not only moved to open up a pathway for its master, but it had _grown_ considerably in the process. 

Meryl gaped, realizing that this in-door garden might not have been the result of years and years of natural cultivation. "You...you did this?" 

He pursed his lips, as though fighting the urge to respond. "Mm." 

"You created this place? This oasis?" She couldn't stop staring at his statuesque profile, barely beginning to comprehend exactly what kind of power this being had. It never occurred to her that the fruits of his labors could be anything but destructive. Yet for all the hatred he harbored, Knives had the capacity for nurturing life, instead of destroying it. There was something important about that… But her exhausted mind couldn't quite make the connection. 

"It is not...for humans." 

Unpleasant, his voice was. Even when he said words she expected to hear. "If this place is for your people, then why are they not here?" 

His brow knotted. "Some...are." He turned until she felt his breath ruffle her bangs. "You said...said you wouldn't ask..." He blinked, his mouth went slack, "questions..." He stopped mid-thought, as the edge seemed to melt off his expression. Meryl grew increasingly uncomfortable as his eyes lingered on her visage, bouncing from her bangs, to her chin, to her cheeks. It was that look again. Like the one he'd given her back in the village. 

She might have said something, even thought something, but being the recipient of such an expression – and from him, no less - left her winded. She didn't realize she was inching away from him until his own weight made his leg buckle. The strange moment ended when he grimaced, and threw his head back and slipped off her shoulder. 

"Sorry!" Meryl cried, worrying over his collapsed form in the grass. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…drop you." 

"Ngh…" 

"Sorry…" 

He growled. For all that he was staring earlier, he avoided her eyes like the plague now. Made it difficult when he tried to stand, barely acknowledging her as she braced herself under his arm again. He begrudgingly let her, though she got the feeling he was fed up with accepting help from a human. "There's," he pointed weakly to the passageway that had just opened up, "there's a plant through there. Take me to her." 

Awkward moment forgotten, Meryl hobbled onward, propped up under Knives' shoulder as they walked through the hidden passageway. And it was then, that Vash's face popped up in her mind, without warning or trigger. Putting one step in front of the other, she could hear his voice, see his smile, feel his embrace… 

Her eyes stung. Hopefully he wouldn't find out. Hopefully, she'd get Knives back up on his feet, and return home before Vash had learned that she'd put her life in the hands of the very man he was protecting her from. Would he feel betrayed? Would he be angry with her? Would he…_Will he finally tell me why I'm…different?_

Knives stumbled. 

"Whoa...easy there..." she said, her hand bracing his chest. She watched him warily as he righted himself and limped along. Then as though to redirect her attention elsewhere than his folly, cold sky eyes stared pointedly into the chamber ahead. She followed his gaze. 

The room was so bright, she had to squint against it. They shuffled closer, and she saw it. A gigantic bulbous container loomed up ahead. Electric currents were netted around it, as it sparked and crackled against the humid air. The unit was situated from a hanging plug, propped directly over a platform. A platform that they were now trudging up. 

Emotional and tired, Meryl said the first thing that came to her mind, having no consideration that it might be a forbidden topic. "Don't you know how to free them from this…_prison_?" 

Disdainful grunt. "Of course I do." 

"Then why is this plant angel still enslaved?" she asked. "Have you freed any of them?" 

He stiffened and for all he was trying to ignore her earlier, she had his undivided attention now. "This planet isn't ready for them yet. Not 'til...humanity succeeds in...wiping itself out." 

Meryl rolled her eyes. "You mean not until _you_ succeed in wiping us out, don't you?" 

His lip curled. "I won't have to." 

She shrugged, refusing to go there. Her bitterness surfaced. "Well, it strikes me as kinda sad that their own brother won't let them out of their confinement. You know full well you could free and protect them, if you and Vash worked together—" 

"You have no place speaking, _human_." He was angry. Too angry to discipline his responses through the drug-enduced loose tongue, now. She felt his left arm crush her shoulders. He wasn't even trying to hold back. "After the unspeakable horrors you've subjected my people to!" 

"You forget. 99% of the human race has no idea there are living, breathing, sentient beings trapped inside those bulbs. Sure there are those who would keep them in their cages. But there are just as many, if not more, whose souls would ache at the thought. Many who would seek a way to free them as much as you or I." 

"You _lie_…" His teeth were clenched, his bloodshot eyes frenzied. Because of his own exhaustion, and residual stupor from the painkillers, Meryl was getting to see his genuine reaction. His true fears. He was too scatterbrained to be fake. 

She fisted the material of his shirt out of reflex, also too frustrated and tired to reconsider this conversation. "I'm not lying! You know, you sure seem to assume an awful lot about all of mankind for someone who has spent his entire life avoiding us." 

His jaw dropped. "I learned all I needed to kn-know in the first year of my l-life! You're a self-serving, resource-consuming, d-destructive breed--" 

"We're also compassionate, inherently good, selfless, productive... You _can't_ condemn an entire species on the actions of a few, Knives!" 

"Tell that to your own!" he was seething. She had hit a sore point, dead on. Come to think of it, accusing Knives of essentially betraying his own people might not have been the best way to approach the plants' enslavement. His face was reddening. Vash had told her he was crazy, and she was just now beginning to see that insane edge. His lips trembled. "You have _no_ idea what…what…" 

Without warning or permission, he twisted out in front of her, and clamped both hands on the side of her head. Hard. 

And that's when she _saw…_

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**This chapter draws from the manga. Be sure to check out the scans I have on my geocities page. The link is at the bottom of my ff.net bio, or on my Trigun page to see manga scans of Tessla.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

It was…_a baby girl?_

Meryl squinted through the fog, quickly forgetting about where she'd been and wondering about where she was. The small naked creature, red-skinned and writhing, mewled helplessly as white sparks of light hissed and spat about it in some vast, bulbous container. Meryl's confusion shifted to alarm. She had no idea what was going on, but it looked like… _Oh…Oh my…_ Her heart lurched in her throat. 

"Help!" she screamed. "Somebody! Help! That baby's caught in an electric current!" But her hysterical words fell silent, even on her own ears. In a blind panic, she tried to move forward, but it was as though she were encased in cold, damp clay. 

A forced spectator. "Someone! PLEASE!" 

A half-dozen beings crowded her vision. Dressed in odd, masked space suits. The kind that quarantined the individual inside, for fear of dangerous exposure. Contamination. 

The sight made Meryl's stomach turn. _What…what's going on here?_

A mechanical saw emerged. A sharp, loud whirring noise made her jump. The destructive instrument was thrust against the baby's unusual container, and her small noises jumped up in decibel, and turned to wails. She spasmed and twitched spastically as the walls around her were ruptured, and it was then that Meryl realized that this transparent, large bulb wasn't a prison. 

It was a bulb. 

_A plant angel…_ Her throat constricted and she screamed again as thick-gloved hands invaded the space, gripping the infant's small foot, and yanking her screaming form out. It was horrible to watch, and Meryl knew, without knowing exactly how, that they weren't extracting the child to nurture it. 

"Don't touch her!" Meryl choked, maternal instincts she didn't know she had surging through her veins like fire. "Don't you dare experiment on her like she's a guinea pig!!" 

Nothing. She was ruthlessly shut out as her vision turned black. Her awareness faded. And when sight was once again returned, in all its nightmarish haze, she saw a child. 

Toddler size. Short white hair cropped to her delicate little shoulders, and eyes so extraordinarily large, and crystal clear, that one would be hard pressed to think that they hadn't just plucked this angel child from the heavens. Again, the knowledge came to her without explanation or adornment. This was the baby girl. Older now. 

Huddled in a corner, with teary, turquoise orbs, and a frown so deep that it elongated her cherubic face. With her heart aching in ways it never had, Meryl instinctively moved to go to her. 

But she couldn't budge. Shackled in the surrealism of a bad dream, she was forced to watch as rough hands plucked the girl from her safety. The little angel's face reddened as she began to whimper, giant gumdrop tears pouring in a deluge down her soft cheeks. But no one came to her rescue. No parent was there to stop them. 

She squirmed and kicked as they propped her down and latched a heavy mechanical visor to the top of her skull. Then they strapped her to a flat surface, and Meryl choked down a sob as the little thing convulsed with fear. 

"She's just a child!" Meryl tried again, mentally banging against her restraints. "You inhumane bastards, she's just a BABY!!" 

For all the shared anguish, for all the horror of the moment, nothing Meryl said or did stopped them from producing two nasty, blood-sucking needles and stabbing them, without warning or mercy into tiny, innocent arms… 

_Stop them!_, Meryl plead emotionally with whatever God was listening. _Please. Make them leave her alone…_

In response, the image shattered…twisted…a kaleidoscope of blood and bandages, and machinery. No blackness this time. Just another significant lapse of time. Same cold room. More monitors. More needles, and… 

_No…_

Motionless. Her body was older, but unconscious. And wrapped from head to toe in bandages. Her chest rose and fell with strained, raspy breathing, as limbs she'd tried so desperately to protect before were displayed openly for the dozen patches and needles imbedded in her skin. Hard, rubber hoses were somehow fastened to open wounds that _they_ had created, and a spider-like clamp nestled over her heart… Thin, patchy hair, bleeding gums, missing teeth... All damning the scientists. Evidencing that they'd never stopped this evil work… 

Four men walked in, with sterilized attire. Face masks, rubber gloves, even goggles. They didn't flinch, as the monitor showed her heart beat slowing. Just looked at their notes, as though the dying child before them were nothing more than an fascinating result. 

In anguished shock, Meryl couldn't stop herself from screaming, clawing at the invisible wall between them in a crazed frenzy. They had to stop. Had...to... 

_Stop..._

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

_Tessla... Damn them. Damn them and their entire race for what they did to you..._

It was too much for his tortured body to handle. Knives shuddered violently as the visions stopped, his own consciousness dropping back into his body like a steel anvil. He groaned with the impact, worse off now for the retelling of the most terrible moment of his life. He felt a weight on top of him, small and trembling, sobbing against his chest. His hands were still clamped on the woman's head from the transfer…the memory transfer that should have never occurred. 

He hissed softly and raised a weary hand over his brow. 

_What have I done?_

She sniffled, and slowly lifted wet, woeful eyes to lock stares with him. The emotion in her face was something he almost couldn't cope with. It suggested that she cared about what she'd seen. A good deal. 

She asked something. Lips quivered, but the sound was lost as his drugged state mingled his past and present. It confused him, and he found himself measuring the angle of her tear-streaked visage, the length of her bangs, the sheen of her cheekbones. His open palm moved in wonderment to lightly touch her face. 

_Rem...Rem never looked this small..._

"That girl... That _plant_ angel..." a frown so deep, he could see her bottom row of teeth. She hiccupped and buried her face over his heart again, and thumped his ribs softly with her fists. 

_So upset..._ He watched her in growing distress..._So wounded, like she didn't know. Like she wasn't the one who told Vash and I to begin with... Wait..._ He tried desperately to focus through the haze. The association between the two women blurred. The sharp scent of gunpowder wafted over him, and her face became her own. Regret returned, tenfold. It hit him in tangible waves, making him cringe inside. How could he show her so much? How could he let a human see…? 

A familiar resentment nagged at him, and he became alarmed at her nearness. A dim remnant of his former self suggested that he push her off. That they disengage this human contact immediately, but his control over his own thoughts was eluding his grasp, and it was overwhelmed by something much more…_primitive…_ This closeness, this warmth… Knives realized with a startling clarity that he hadn't felt either for almost a century and a half. And there was something about it. 

Something…_soothing…_

His hand moved of its own accord from her hair to her shoulder… 

And the woman changed demeanors. She snapped up, and pushed off him, her face a sudden cocktail of enraged anguish. Knives stared, dumbfounded, as she roughly wiped the wetness from her eyes with the back of her hand. She'd gone from whimpering to fierce in a half second. "We still might have time." 

"…time?" he cracked. 

"We can SAVE her, Knives!" she yelled, making a fist. 

He blinked. Frowned. Did she think-- ? 

The human was now up on her feet. She crossed her arms with practiced expertise, and extracted a small pistol from her cloak and a… He fought the urge to scoot back. _Where has she been hiding that thing!?_

A shotgun. A pump, no less. She cocked it with one jerk of her hand, the 'ka-ching' making him jump. How could she switch gears so fast!? "What're you—!?" 

"Alright." She looked at him, abruptly terrifying. "Let's go. Those sonsofbitches are going to kill her if we don't hurry." 

"You don't under—" 

"SHE'S JUST A CHILD!" she screamed, biting back another sob. He saw her teeth grit, the muscles in her jaw jump. Dusty, obsidian bangs shook about her brow. For all her earlier exhaustion, she was belligerent now. Her reaction wasn't right. Wasn't right at all. It was making him nervous for reasons he didn't care to identify. The woman looked like she was going to explode. 

"Knives!" 

He flinched. 

"TELL me where she is, you gimped egocentric bastard, or so help me, I'll--" 

!? _Gimped…egocentric… _He shot bolt upright, forgetting about his wounds. "She's DEAD! Your people…k-k-KILLED her…over130yearsago!" Too unfocused to discipline his thoughts, he hurled one last visual at her. Of Tessla's dissected, dismembered body, floating in all its mutilated detail in a giant vat of formaldehyde, her intestines and organs floating about her broken rib cage in some sick display of scientific curiosity. 

His heartbeat was thrumming in his ears. His world spun. But he didn't miss her reaction. The visual hit her like an avalanche. Weapons fell disregarded to the floor as she clutched her head, and screamed. 

He watched with speechless apprehension as the fight ebbed out of her body like a departing spirit. She collapsed with her face in her hands, rocking back and forth on her knees, weeping incoherencies he couldn't even begin to understand. 

And all over someone she never knew. Over someone who died over a century ago. Over a _plant_ angel… Knives shook himself, wracking his brain for a possible ulterior motive for her anguish. 

Several moments passed, and he wondered if she was going to be any use at all, when soft, whispering words filtered between her fingers. "She…was…the first of your kind?" she spoke without looking up. 

He damned his tongue yet again for letting so much slip out. And like before, he was utterly unable to stop from answering. He exhaled heavily and closed his eyes. "Mm." 

"Tessla?" 

Pause. "Yes." 

She rubbed her eye sockets with the heel of her palms, her shuddering breaths slowing to a slight hiccup. Her next thoughts he heard as clearly as though she had said them outloud. And he hadn't even been trying. 

_No wonder he hates us so much..._

He almost snorted. No wonder, indeed. _But do you believe in my crusade? Do you see why humanity must die?_ She was beyond receiving however, and after a long moment of silence between them, he felt his energy draining. Fast. The old gun wounds were beginning to throb. He needed to heal. His drugged mind needed to recuperate, before anything else slipped out. Knives twisted, and started to crawl towards the brilliant bulb, feeling the human's small, but strong hands supporting him a moment later. He was too tired to even care anymore, and let her help situate him on the platform under the bulb. 

Once positioned, Knives looked sidelong at the woman who had brought him home - whose cheeks were still streaked with tears, whose eyes were still puffy and swollen. He could still see the shadow of Tessla in her visage, but she attempted to move on to more practical matters. 

"Where...where do you want me to--" 

"Back th-through the corridor," he managed. "A chamber to your left. Running water, food storage, la…lavatory." 

With half-lidded eyes, she looked behind her, and turned back. "How long...?" she asked with an exhausted rawness that made churning gravel sound melodious in comparison. 

_How long..._ Knives looked at her. She seemed as though she was two seconds away from passing out. Far from threatening. Too tired to be devious. His vision started to fog over, but Knives caught it this time. He cursed himself, and his skewed judgment. On command, the old doubts resurfaced. 

She was human. She'd probably take off the second he went into his comatose state. Maybe even inform her people of this secret place. Or Vash. And he couldn't have that. On reflex, he reached out to her with his mind. Like he had with Legato and others. The brainwash would take just a few seconds. And he had enough mental capacity to do at least _that_… 

She gasped. 

_Hn?_

A shaky hand raised to her head. And to his utter surprise, angry, blood-shot eyes pegged him with a glare worth a thousand deaths. A half second later, his mental probes came slamming back into his own mind, causing an instant migraine. "Ngh…!" 

"Don't you DARE use your mind tricks on me, Knives!" she screamed, causing him to cover his ears in residual pain as the piercing sound rattled his poor brain. 

_Screeching BANSHEE!!_

Her jaw dropped, "I'll show _you_ screeching banshee!" Her voice jumped up an octave, and cracked. "Try mind-raping me again, and I'll...I'll..." She huffed, and closed her eyes. He could see her lips moving as she counted backwards from ten. When she finished, she took three deep breaths, and tried again. Her voice a sliver more composed. "Look. If I say I 'll stay, then I'LL STAY. How the hell am I supposed to show you I can be trusted if you don't give me a damn chance!" She jabbed her finger in his side. "Give me a _chance_!" 

He clutched at his head as his world spun again. She was so damn volatile! How did she know what he'd been doing? And more importantly, how did she stop it? And such a tone. The woman had no idea how lucky she was to still be alive. So he informed her. 

"You're…lucky…to be ALIVE!" 

"Feh!" She swiped at the air in an angry gesture. "You're one to talk, paraplegic." 

_Such insolence...!_

"Alright, alright..." she batted at the air, and then rubbed her temples in aggravated exhaustion. A stray set of tears leaked out of her eyes, but Knives got the impression that she didn't even notice. Or care. "I'm tired. I haven't slept for almost 30 hours. Just answer my question so we can both get get some rest, already." 

"Stay," he hissed, barely keeping keeping it a secret how he'd planned on using her to debilitate Vash. "Just stay. For now." 

"You'll be healed when?" 

"Couple…days…" He hated how the answer just came out. Damn, if this foreign element wasn't out of his system by the time he disengaged himself from the plant angel, then… 

"Fine." She stepped back, and he gratefully turned away from her. Knives pressed the button on the underside of his flatbed. The mechanical hinges rose, and nestled him against the cell of his sibling and mercifully away from _her_. 

Large, shaky hands palmed the glass, while his encased sister floated down, and placed her calming presence opposite him. Their energy began to fuse. Knives felt the human's physical presence eventually leave the chamber, but her _aura..._ Her _aura_ remained, plaguing his thoughts, and rallying unchecked in his head with all the directionless chaos of a ping-pong in a vacuum. 

The woman might be more trouble than she was worth. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Vash's search came to an end, as he leaned against the doorframe of the control room. 

Knives. Of course he was here. 

His brother was sitting with his feet kicked up on the panel - staring in wide-eyed wonderment at the vast chamber through the panel. The million encapsulized people hadn't budged since the last time they were in this room, still frozen in the blissful state of cybersleep. Never moving. Never changing. Just there_… _

But it never kept Knives from daydreaming. 

Vash shuffled in loudly, wearing Rem's too-big shoes and too-long clothes, and rested his hand on the back of his brother's chair. He was rewarded with no greeting. Too enamored with the view, Knives didn't even turn his head, his expression fixed in that same silly grin and dreamy visage. Vash chuckled internally. His brother's enthusiasm was always so contagious. 

"You never get tired of this, do you," Vash said. 

A small, breathy laugh, and Knives finally peeled his stare away to acknowledge him with sheepish eyes. "Neither do you." 

"Hn." Vash joined him in companionable silence as they marveled at the view. So many lives. So many faces… 

"I wonder what they're dreaming…" Knives whispered. 

Vash frowned. "Aren't their brainwaves stopped?" 

No answer, those curious blue orbs as fixated as ever on the endless possibilities. It was then that Vash noticed the open file on the monitor of one of the frozen individuals. He recognized it immediately. It was the same one Knives had been oogling at the last time they were in here. Of a young girl, a bit smaller than they, with long-lashed lilac eyes, and dark hair cropped to her shoulders. And that smile… A genuine smile. Like Rem's. 

"Oh…" Vash uttered, but before he could ask, Knives looked back innocently and smiled. 

"She's pretty," Knives said. 

Vash considered it. He clapped his brother on the shoulder, knowing him well. "What cell number is—" 

"B435,296." 

Vash laughed. "You want to go see her, don't you." 

That was all it took. With a hop and a giggle, Knives was trotting down the hall before Vash even had a chance to turn around. He shook his head and sighed good-naturedly as he headed after his eager brother to go and sneak a couple of Rem's warm coats. 

Vash listened to Knives rattle off like he usually did about how great it would be to meet them. To get to know them. To hear about their lives back on earth. They finished dressing up, and headed towards the cyber sleep room. 

"Sometimes I wish we could go to sleep, too," he said, opening the door to the massive container. They were assaulted by a freezing cold gust, and Knives turned to Vash with chill-reddened cheeks, his breath visible. "That way, we wouldn't have to wait. We could all wake up together in our new home." 

"Yeah…" 

They walked in like they had so many times before. And like usual, Vash found himself struggling with some elusive apprehension as he beheld the myriad of sleeping humans. A nagging unease that undermined Knives' enthused optimism. 

He held it in, wishing he could be more like his brother as they took an elevator and ascended a few levels. A ten-yard walk around the perimeter later, and they were at the girl's capsule. Number B435,296. It was exciting, he admitted, looking at the living being beneath the glass. She looked just like the picture, Vash noted. Had even fallen into the deep cyber sleep with her lips curled up in a blissful smile. 

Knives leaned down and touched the capsule, tracing her face with his hand. "I bet she's nice, too." He stared a moment longer, and then stood, tilting his head back to take in all of them. With a bounce in his step, he turned and looked at his brother over his shoulder. 

"Hey Vash…" he began, tugging his bottom lip in between his teeth, his large, crystalline eyes looking so unbelievably hopeful, it made Vash's heart hurt. "Do you think we can become friends with them?" 

So eager. So idealistic, as though the entire human race would embrace them, just like Rem had. Vash looked at the stern-looking man in the capsule next to the girl's, and the blank face of an older woman above them. Part of him was envious that his brother could be so positive. Doubts nagged him. His smile straightened as he recalled the history vids they'd seen, of war-like faces, angry faces, blood and death… He didn't want to disappoint his brother, so he phrased it as tactfully as he could. 

"Vash?" 

"Yeah," he said, swallowing down a lump in his throat. "But I think we're going to have to put in a lot of effort…" 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

The cruel morning sunlight yanked Vash out of the dream with all the tender delicacy of a trumpet in a graveyard. Blinding, deafening, and numbing all at once, the bright rays jarred to alertness senses that needed a couple more hours to recuperate. He groaned and turned away from the window, the onset of a slight hangover invading his consciousness. 

He clenched his eyes shut, mentally groping after the memory that was quickly fading. Of that time, back then. When Knives still cared… Vash tried desperately to hold onto it. To retain the affection that had once been so easy to feel for his brother. 

Because he was struggling. 

The elusive assurance he'd felt when he brought his brother back had dissipated the moment Knives scared him into exiling Meryl. To mention her with those vindictive, calculating eyes…forcing Vash to turn her away, after he'd become so emotionally dependent on her presence, her support, her belief in him… 

_Agh, I need her._

The invalid in the room down the hall had nearly secured his own death by doing that. By holding on to his hatred and bitterness with maniacal glee. Perhaps he wasn't capable of changing at all. 

In which case… 

Vash dropped his head in his hands. _But that time… That time when he loved humanity more than Rem and I combined… That time when he used to smile…_

He forced himself to stand. He batted away the anxiety, and clung with desperate tenacity to the memory of an endearing, white-haired boy with soulful sapphire eyes. Then, marching one dutiful foot in front of the other, he padded over through the lonely apartment and routinely rapped on his brother's door 

"Good morning, Knives!" he chimed in false cheer. He cracked open the door and stuck his head in. "Ready for some break…fast…" Vash stopped. Burst in. Looked around. And freaked. 

The room was empty. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Milly dropped her luggage in the lobby of the small motel that Vash and Knives had been staying in. Her suitcases were so heavy, the floorboards creaked when they hit, startling the clerk. He looked up, saw it was her, and smiled warmly. 

"Ah! Welcome back, young lady!!" 

She waved. "Have you seen Mr. Vash, sir?" 

The older man pulled on his long moustache, and nodded. "Been in a panic since he woke up this morning. His wounded pal seems to have flown the coop, and that gangly broom-headed friend of yours has been spazzing all over the place, trying to find him." 

Milly blinked. _Knives ran away?_ She recalled what Meryl had said about him singling her out, and Vash's adamant response. "In a panic, huh?" 

"Schyeah. The way he's acting, you'd think he just unleashed a pit bull in a kindergarten." 

"Uh-oh…" She pondered the situation, knowing there was more to Knives than either had let on. She looked around. No time to start work like the present. She certainly wasn't one to sit still and do nothing. "Maybe I can help him look. Do you know which direction he went?" 

The man shrugged, and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "All of them! Better for you to stay until—" 

Heavy stomping sounded on the steps outside. They both swung around as Vash burst through the swinging door. He was frantic. Eyes wild with worry, still dressed in his pajamas… He saw Milly, and his face opened in an honest plea. He trudged up and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. 

"Milly! What are you--?" 

"I was reassigned to you, Mr. Vash," she rattled off quickly to try and console him. "But Meryl wasn't. She was sent on another job..." One bit of logic led to another, and the red flags started to wave in Milly's head. 

"Another job? Milly?" 

She nodded absently as the wheels turned, repeating Meryl's explanation with growing unease. "Another high end job. She wasn't able to tell me..." she stammered, suddenly realizing that Vash's missing patient, and Meryl's reassignment were too well-timed to be a coincidence. "Oh. Oh my. That's...not like her, to do something this reckless without backup." 

Vash paled considerably. She reflexively reached out and steadied him, easing his trembling form into a chair. He was looking at her, but not seeing her. His mouth fumbled inarticulately, face twisting with terror. 

"Is Knives that bad of a person--?" 

"We…we have to find her, Milly." His voice cracked, and he hung his head and scrunched his eyes shut, letting loose a profanity that made even the hotel clerk blush. 

"I...I should have killed him when I had the chance!"

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**TWO DAYS LATER**

_Thank you, little sister..._

Completely regenerated, Knives disengaged himself from the angel flesh that encased his entire body. His back felt the cool air first, then his shoulders, his legs, his arms as he retook his shape. Once separated, long angel arms lowered him against the base of the bulb. 

Delicate fingers pushed his bangs off his brow, and patted his cheek tenderly before withdrawing back to the meaty core of the container. Knives wiped the pinkish, placenta residue from his eyes and opened them to behold his healer as she still hovered overhead in apparent indecision. She communicated to him her concern. Not with words. Never with words, but with sentiment. 

He offered a half smile as he changed his molecular structure to sift through the glass, falling with a soft thud on the platform on the other side. Feathers were everywhere. _You're worried about me? Don't be. It'll all be okay soon._

As he rolled off and stood to his feet, another wave of emotion bled from the entity encased in the plant. One that filled his mind with images of the insurance girl, accompanied with taboo feelings of trust. Approval. Hope. It almost made him mad. 

"No human is trustworthy. You read her wrong," he said sternly, and watched with a sliver of regret how her cherubic face saddened. Without a farewell, she curled in on herself and withdrew to the recesses of her container like a fading apparition. 

With a sigh, Knives stretched pseudo-stiff limbs, and cracked his neck. He didn't mean to snap at her. But she was still so naive. They all were. Including, and _especially_ Vash. 

He stepped over his old heap of clothes and bandages, with half a thought for his naked, slime-covered body. But more important matters were at the forefront of his mind. Like his guest. He had left her for two days, unsupervised in the sanctuary. 

Knives briskly made his way through the ship. In the main entryway the desert beast was grazing peacefully, which meant that _Hn. She's still here, then..._ He strode down another hallway and into an open chamber filled with mirror-reflected sunbeams. 

The soothing trickle of running water fell on his sensitive ears, as he padded barefoot through soft grass and into the leafy haven. It was a room he had taken more time manicuring than the rest, linking it directly to Gunsmoke's elusive water table. As a result, a stream literally ran through it, filling a large clay basin embedded in the soil, and spilling over to irrigate the remainder of his small, indoor desert oasis. 

Knives ducked under some low, leafy saplings, his alert eyes searching the foliage until he found her. Curled up like a marsupial on a patch of moss by the basin. 

Sleeping. 

He neared, his footsteps as quiet as a whisper. Upon closer observation, he noted that she'd bathed. Damp hair, long dark lashes feathered against a fair-skinned, unblemished face… She was wearing cotton pajamas, with her old clothes hung to dry on a nearby vine. And the woman had found the sustenance easily enough. He noticed a tidy little pile of fruit cores and pod skins beside her from the protein-rich plants that grew about the area. 

_So you made yourself at home…_

Her chest rose and fell with each slumbering breath, only the slightest furrow to her brow on her otherwise tranquil expression. _So unaware…_ he mused, remembering her dizzying intensity from earlier. 

For the first time in weeks, Knives' thoughts were uncluttered with pain and drugs. So he took advantage of the quiet moment to analyze exactly how she was going to be his loophole in bringing his long lost brother to his senses. 

She was small, for a human. One might even mistake her as harmless in this slumbering state. He crossed his arms and held his chin between his thumb and forefinger. _What to do with her…_

He went down the mental checklist of all his prior attempts to make Vash see why humanity was destined to self-terminate. Simply letting the fool live with them hadn't worked. For 82 years, Knives had tried that. The humans had scarred his brother's body beyond recognition, betrayed him, treated him like the dirt under their feet. But instead of learning how despicable they were, Vash had only gotten more endeared to them. 

Knives rubbed his brow in exasperation, just thinking about it. 

He'd shown Vash his angel arm, as well. That hadn't worked either. Had backfired horribly. Instead of being convinced of his superiority, and wielding his newfound weapon with an intoxicating sense of righteous indignation, the fool had turned it instead on Knives, himself. Damn near blew him from existence. 

And the Gung-ho Guns… Humans so bloodthirsty, and so screwed up that they reveled in massacring their own. Had jumped on the platform Knives had given them to satisfy their unquenchable thirst for domination, and mayhem. They tortured Vash with their mindless slaughter, over and over. 

And _still_ he didn't get it. 

Knives' shoulders knotted, as an old familiar pang in his heart flared up. The one that was tied to the woman who had done more damage to Vash with one year of sentimental conditioning than the past century and a half combined. He didn't like thinking about her. The more time that passed, it was like the more conflicted his thoughts were concerning the matter. 

_Rem..._

He banished the invasive memories of her lung-crushing hugs. The silly way she snorted when she laughed. The tickling games, the hide-and-go-seek... 

_Agh..._ He forced it away. Fake. It was all fake. On cue, Tessla's emaciated, decaying face appeared. A child that the very same Rem had experimented on, standing by while they ruthlessly picked her angel anatomy apart. Letting it happen. 

His hands reflexively curled into fists. His heartbeat sped up. With effort, Knives forced the murderous urges out of his system, remembering why his train of thought had led him to Rem in the first place. 

Yes. Her influence over Vash was unparalleled. 

Until now. 

After he made the connection, Knives pieced together odd behaviors from his brother during his time as an invalid. Like how Vash looked for her approval on how he was treated, or how he always informed her of where he was going, or where he'd been. And especially..._especially_ the way he stared at the short-haired woman when she wasn't looking, with those contented, crinkled eyes. Like he'd finally found a home, after all these years. 

Knives knelt down, and leaned over the oblivious female, studying her face. He wasn't so sure now, what it was about her that reminded him of Rem. Fair skin, dark hair...yes, but they really weren't that much alike. 

Yet somehow, she had not only gotten past Vash's false smile and guarded thoughts, but had entered a realm of influence over him, that had gone untouched since their foster mother. 

He considered it. Perhaps if _she_ were to join Knives in freeing his angels, then through her own conviction, she could somehow convince Vash that his place in life was at the top of the food chain. Not the bottom. And that ultimately, humanity's inevitable self-extinction was only fate. 

But to manipulate her into helping... Knives pursed his lips. It might not be so difficult. He recalled with disturbing clarity the woman's violent, aggressive reaction to the visions of Tessla. And something told him that had it been _her_ back then on the ship instead of Rem, Tessla would still be alive. 

And with that desire to protect his people, he might not even have to tamper with her head – something that secretly concerned him, since she had somehow blocked his attempt the last time. 

_Damned drugs..._ he thought, dismissing the misfire. Or trying to. Truth was, it did bother him. A good deal. In the aftermath of July, Knives' fading awareness had latched onto an immensely psychic boy for aid. A boy named Legato. The child had fought, and the battle that ensued nearly costed Knives' his life. In his frenzied panic, he ultimately overdid the brainwash, fragmenting the youth's sanity, leaving him as little more than a psychotic 'Yes Man'. But even then, Knives had won. That left only one other person who had successfully resisted his mind control. Dr. Conrad. And Dr. Conrad was dead. 

"Mmmm…" 

She was waking up. Her purr pulled him out of calculation mode, leaving him as a simple observer. He sat back on his heels. Now that he wasn't at her mercy, it'd be interesting to see how she reacted to his presence... 

The woman moaned, and shifted - lethargic limbs uncurled and stretched, with an audible yawn that even Knives felt all the way to his toes. She sat up, her back to him, and cracked her neck. Her hair was disheveled, and her pajamas wrinkled. She lifted one hand to scratch the back of her head. 

"Sleep well?" 

She jumped, and spun around. "Wha...?" Half-lidded lilac eyes flung saucer-wide, and her face turned bright red. Odd little gutteral sounds resounded in her throat as breath rattled between shaky vocal cords. She clapped a hand to her mouth, and pointed at his anatomy. Then she pointed at his face, and screamed. 

Knives arched a brow in growing distraction as the woman launched herself backwards, knocking over the pile of neatly-stacked fruit. He hadn't given much thought to it, but it probably wasn't every day she saw a full grown naked male covered in post-birth slime. 

"What the...!? HOW...!?" She grimaced, her next words trailing out in a hysterical squeak. "What the hell is going on!?" 

Knives smirked. Such a reaction. Ah, it felt good to have the upper hand again. 

"p-p-p-PERVERT!!" 

His smirk straightened. _Pervert?_

She twisted, and grabbed one of her bags, holding it directly in front of her, while peeking at him through her peripheral vision. "You sick, dirty... I did _not_ come here for _that_," she made an embarrassed, sweeping motion below his waist. "So you can just forget—" 

"Idiot," he spat, appalled that she would have even thought… That he would even consider… With a _human_… "You are under the mistaken impression that I find you desirable," he said tersely, leaning forward. "Rest assured, I would sooner cut off my testicles and feed them to that overgrown ostrich out there, than seek any form of sexual intimacy with the likes of _you_." 

Her jaw dropped, her expression rallying back and forth between relieved and highly offended. After several awkward seconds, she stomped to her feet. "Well, believe me, the feeling is MUTUAL!" She half-turned, and faced the wall, giving him a perfect profile of her flushed face. "What kind of person walks around naked when they have company, anyways!?" 

Knives felt a smile lift the corners of his mouth. There was something indisputably amusing about seeing her so ruffled over something so trivial. "It makes no difference to me." 

She rolled her eyes, still blushing, and fisted her hips. "Obviously!" With an abrupt turnabout, she began to march out of the room. 

But the prospect of prolonging her misery was just too tempting. "Stay," he said with a smirk. 

"Pssht!" 

"I have to speak with you." 

She growled. "About what?" 

He deliberately mumbled his next words. 

"What?" 

"I'm not going to shout it." 

"Oh, for _cryingoutloud_!" She started to retract her steps to the basin…backwards. 

Knives couldn't help it. She was so flustered, and was acting so ludicrous… What started out as a tickle in his throat evolved into genuine chuckles. 

Her shoulders bunched right up at the sound. "Oh. You find this amusing?" she snapped. "Well, I don't appreciate it--ah!!" Her heel caught on a root. With a curse and a squeal, the woman came crashing down through the shrubbery, right on her rump. "Dammit!" 

Knives shook his head, his shoulders shaking with mirth. 

"Stop laughing!" 

"I was going to recruit your hand in something important," he managed between simmering chuckles, "But you seem better-suited for a personal jester." 

She twisted around to peg him with a red-faced glare. "I'm not going to be your personal _anything_!" 

He ran his fingers along his thigh, and flung some of the filmy residue at her feet. "What - you're not going to stick around and help me wipe some of this off?" 

"BAH!" Sputtering incoherencies, she hopped up and stormed rigidly out of the chamber, with Knives'crinkled eyes following her all the way. His reservations concerning her involvement in his plans lessened. Especially if she was this entertaining. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

He'd toyed with the idea of strutting around unclothed, just to get another reaction out of her – but Knives already felt slightly guilty for his earlier joviality. He had no right enjoying himself so much, when so many of his people were still suffering. Even now, he could feel the tide of their biorhythms wane and fall above his person, like clashing air currents. One angel in particular was in peril. One he'd tried to save, before. 

And in all honesty, he probably _would_ need the woman's help to extract her from the bulb. 

So he'd bathed in the basin, and dressed in his utility suit before seeking her out again. Surprisingly, he found her leaning against the entrance to the room with the plant angel. Arms folded. Gaze fixed ahead. 

She glanced at his approach, assessing that he was dressed, and turned her attention back to his sister. But he saw her expression. Could feel her emotion, without even trying to penetrate her mind. Her empathy was palpable. Two days later, and it was clear that Tessla was still plaguing her thoughts. 

The question was – what was she willing to do about it? He leaned against the wall opposite her, dividing his attention between his plant sister, and her spectator. 

She shifted weight from one leg to another, and inhaled deeply. Her words were soft, earlier offenses forgotten. "So is this one in pain?" 

Knives considered it. Being honest about his sisters' plight would help her to help him. So he answered. "No. There is little demand on her, here. Unlike in your human cities." 

She nodded, as though expecting the answer. Another long pause. "And the ones who are in pain… Do you feel it?" 

"Yes." 

"So you know where they are…" 

"I do." 

She unfolded her arms, and met his cold stare with a plea in her eyes. "Knives… Do the plant angels also have the ability to create," she made a sweeping gesture to the floral and fauna that surrounded them, "all this?" 

He already didn't like the tone of her voice. So he said nothing. 

"Because…because if they could, I was thinking that we could organize a team to—" 

"No." 

"—cultivate parts of this planet so that they were habitable—" 

"No." 

"—without the crutch of your people's energy—" 

"_I said no._" Knives bit the words off, his agitation tensing the muscles in his face. "Do not bring this up again." 

Her demeanor changed, and she swiped at the air. "Come ON! _Think_ about it! Both species could survive. And you know damn well, that the people who set your kind up for exploitation are dead! Do you really want the blood of so many innocents on your hands?" 

"Your _innocents_ killed themselves the day they cannibalized their home planet—" 

"If you take away their life support without warning or substitute, then _you_ will have ended their lives. And if that's what you _really_ wanted, then you would have done it already." 

He blinked in muted shock at her. Couldn't believe where she was going. 

"It's not like you didn't have the ability. And it's certainly not like you haven't had the time--" 

He materialized in front of her, and pinned her to the wall with his hand clamped over her mouth. "You're making assumptions you're not qualified to make," he said with acidic calm, belying the inner turmoil her comment had caused – as though his reluctance to wipe them out personally was anything more than the inconvenience. 

She stiffened at the contact, but held his gaze with an unwavering one of her own. He could feel the moisture of her lips as they pursed in aggravation beneath his palm. How could she not fear him!? 

It was a battle of wills, even now. When it was obvious he could break her neck with one twitch of the hand. If she were _anyone_ else... Rationale quieted his murderous thoughts, remembering that this woman was to be his Deus Ex Machina. So he took three calming breaths, and released her mouth. As they locked stares, he toyed again with with the idea of mind-warping her. It'd be so much easier. Tentative mental probes extended to grip her her awareness... 

"_Don't_. Even. Try. It." 

He gasped as they came slamming back, making him grimace from the pain of it. He blinked down at her incredulously. It hadn't been the painkillers. It was her all along. "Dammit woman," he panted, nursing his brow. "How--!?" 

"MY head, MY decisions!" She seethed. "Understand!?" 

No. He didn't understand. But she was clearly more appalled at his invasive attempts to control her mind, than curious about how she did it. She had no idea how important this was. 

"If you want something, you _ask_ me. Like a civil being. I've been civil with you, haven't I?" 

How frustrating. He was going to be forced to play these games. He shelved his bewilderment for another time, and straightened his spine, his words as condescending and frustrated as his thoughts. "Fine. You're coming with me to Little Jersey." 

She frowned confusion. A second later, recognition quickly lifted her features. She narrowed her eyes at him in pained accusation. 

"That town… With the missing people. It was _you_—" she said. 

"No. It was one of yours." He didn't want to go into it. Knives had been deliberately vague when he gave Legato the directive to 'draw out Vash'. Was it any surprise that he murdered an entire town? "Regardless, I have a sibling there who needs to be unshackled from her man-made prison." At her hesitance he added, "There is no one left there to depend on her. And she is ill." 

He could see the wheels of thought turning behind her eyes. The compassion. The inner-conflict. The suspicion. "Why…do you need…_me_?" 

"I don't. But she may." It was the truth. And it was all she was going to get, because even Knives wasn't ready to put his apprehension into words. There was a reason he hadn't freed his sisters yet, that had nothing to do with waiting for humanity to wipe itself out. 

He held his breath. Her stare was so intense, it almost made him squirm. 

"So we free your sister. Then what?" 

"I don't know." 

"I don't trust you." 

He said nothing. 

Another long pause, and she sighed heavily and folded her arms. "Alright." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Knives was her assignment, now. It was her job to monitor him. So with as much as she wanted to run back to Vash and tell him everything was okay, she couldn't. This window of opportunity could close at any second. 

Meryl went to Little Jersey without a fight. 

Unsurprisingly, he had a highly advanced means of transportation. A hovercraft that crossed the desert as quickly and as easily as a cloud's shadow. She'd kept asking questions on the way over until he exiled her to the back seat. He was utterly incommunicative, and what's more, his anxiety became increasingly noticeable the closer they got. 

Visibly, he hid it well, but spiritually... Meryl could actually _sense_ it. Like smelling body odor. She wasn't sure why, or whether it was him, or her. _Agh, who cares_, she thought, tired of contemplating it. _As long as that manipulative jerk can't control my mind..._

Knives shifted, and he threw a brief, but angry glare at her over his shoulder. Her thoughts were heard. Meryl shrugged. Served him right for eavesdropping to begin with. 

_Jerk Jerk Jerk Jerk! _"So how much further?" 

"We're there." 

Little Jersey appeared around a geographic barrier after half-a-day's ride. Several sand-stoned buildings sitting nestled together, baking in the hot sun. Just seeing it changed Meryl's mood entirely. A tremendous sense of loss squeezed her heart, and made her eyes sting. Knives said a human had voided this place, and left it a ghost town, but she knew better. His name had been left in blood on the town monument. He'd somehow been behind it. 

One on one, it was easy to forget that he'd caused the Fall, and vicariously blown up July. But now… She was reminded that she was dealing with a genocidal maniac. 

What had she gotten herself into? 

They entered the outskirts. It might have been her imagination, but as they passed through the vacant buildings, and over the empty streets, Meryl thought she could almost hear the town's victims crying out to them from the dust. Wanting justice. Wanting their lives back. She hunched down in her seat, and hung her head between her knees. _So horrible..._

Knives parked the hovercraft alongside the town's energy structure, and without a word to her, he hopped off and pushed through the front doors. Meryl followed him. 

The plant was stationed in the middle of the large hall, with walkways built around it, over it, and under it. The light it was emitting was sporadic. Blitzing. Like a dying firefly. Knives had stopped several yards back, staring up at it in wary apprehension. She could see his fists as they clenched and unclenched at his sides. 

_What's making him so nervous?_

She watched, and waited. He bounced on his heels. She could hear him breathing. Running a shaky hand through his hair, Knives finally closed the distance between them, lifting tentative hands to palm the glass… 

Then there was a scream, so piercing, Meryl clapped her hands over her ears and collapsed to her knees. With a hissing curse, Knives fell back, wide eyes locked on the bulb. But it was too late. 

Meryl gasped, and pointed. "Knives! LOOK OUT!!"

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The bulb erupted. 

Meryl screamed as glass shards the size of her arm peppered Knives' body. 

He half turned, deflecting some of it, but no matter how he tried to shield himself, it did nothing to block the creature that followed. 

A blur of flesh and feathers ejected from the opening with all the terrifying rawness of a crazed harpy. Still connected to the core by long, pulsating tentacles, the angel pounced on him. A warbled cry escaped his lips as clawed fingers clamped around his neck in a strangle-hold. He tore at her forearms to pry her off, writhed and bucked to dislodge her, but her ferocity was too overwhelming. 

White hair streaked with black sparked with electricity as she trembled over him in her rage. Eyes as large as oil spills, and twice as black bore down on him with a fury that stole Meryl's courage. Lips peeled back over sharp, nasty teeth that poked out horizontally from her cheeks, as well as above, and below… 

She was death, incarnate. 

"Kn-Kn…" Meryl stepped forward and doubled over with her cry. "Knives!" 

He grunted something incoherent, his face reddening to scarlet. Gasping sounds emanated from his being as his windpipe was being crushed. His angel arm – the one Vash had told her about – started to transform. 

Locked in the surrealism of a nightmare, Meryl froze. These beings…they were so far from human… She was just now getting what Knives was trying to prove all along. Angels were a more powerful species. Advanced. Untamable… 

He swung at his sister with his elongated arm, knocking her shoulder. She screeched, and with a guttural snarl, she rebounded by kneeing him in the groin. His body convulsed, and arched, eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

"Stop it…" Meryl uttered, her own words sounding pathetic. Weak. One trembling leg marched forward, not knowing what she would do once she got there, but knowing that Knives' death wasn't the answer. "STOP…!" 

The long, pinkish, blue-veined tentacles that attached the angel to the plant's core were stretching beyond their capacity. As she lunged again, one of them snapped, breaking off in a bloody spray at the base of one of many bulbous appendages along her naked back. The plant angel flinched only for a moment, before leaning forward to try and claw out Knives' eyes. 

"Don't kill him!" Meryl shouted, her leaden legs gaining more momentum. As she neared, she saw a wet sheen on the gaunt porcelain cheeks of the angel. Tears. The realization sobered Meryl up enough to hear what the being was communicating in their telepathic tongue… 

_Murderer!_

She felt it. Like she had with Knives. Emotion bleeding off the plant angel as loud as thunder, and just as invisible. Again, the sentiment. The accusation. 

_MURDERER!!_

Knives' weak voice was nothing more than a scratch. A gurgle. "_No..._" 

She grimaced and scratched his face. And Meryl was stopped dead in her tracts as she was assaulted – not with the naked sentiment – but with visuals. Memories from the angel's perspective. Like some demented slide show in the forefront of her mind. 

It was Little Jersey. This town. Busy with people. Laughter. Camaraderie. There was a sense of protective pride as she looked at them. Looked _over_ them. From within the glass. _Her_ charge. _Her_ humans. 

Then, another moment, of a white-haired, stern-faced Knives on a different day, in a different outfit. Pristine, his crystalline eyes were intense. Frowning up at her. Frustrated. Demanding that she leave this place. He had the means, and he had the intent. 

But she'd never leave. Her humans would die without her. How could this brother even suggest…? 

And then… 

The humans that worked around her plant – their faces, suddenly blank. Simultaneously, they all exited. All life walked out of the town, without explanation or apology. She felt their spirits depart miles away, as the desert sucked their weak bodies dry. 

The slideshow abruptly stopped. Meryl rocked back on her heels, her perspective completely enlightened now, as she gaped at Knives' attacker. _So that's it… That's why he never freed any of them before…_ The realization nearly winded her with its irony. _It has nothing to do with Gunsmoke not being ready for the plant angels, like he said. It's that the plant angels won't leave the humans!_ She clapped a hand to her mouth. _They've endeared themselves to humanity, just like Vash…_

Another tentacle snapped, and the angel screamed, arching back. With his neck finally free, Knives twisted around, gasping for breath. He looked up and saw Meryl. "_Idiot_," he panted. "HELP!" 

"No wonder she's so angry!" Meryl snapped. "This town was like her child!! She considered herself their guardian! And she thinks you slew them just to give her incentive to leave--!" she stopped, as the plant angel doubled over, slugging Knives' spine with both fists. 

Between spasms, and spitting blood, Knives shouted – as though Meryl needed any further encouragement. "She's DYING!" 

_I'll help you, Knives, _she thought, an idea formulating. _But don't you complain about the results!_ Having faith that the plant angel wouldn't harm her, Meryl ran, crossing the distance between them. Her feet crunched on the broken glass as she reached them, and she grabbed the angel. Just like that. By both shoulders and shook her hard. 

"You're wrong about him!" she shouted, her throat constricting with empathy. Oh, Knives had better be on his best behavior after covering for his sins like this. "Listen to me. This slaughter was the result of a sick human being, who targeted this town at random!" Meryl had to believe it was true, or else she couldn't convince the angel. "Let him help you. Please." 

The angel paused, and sat back, her entire body oscillating. The disengaged fat-bodied appendages on her shoulder blades were pulsating wetly, trying to pump blood through a venue that was no longer there. She looked at Meryl, distrust in her eyes. Had the moment been any less urgent, Meryl thought she might have passed out from the shock of being so close to such an extraordinary life form. 

"What's more – he needs your help. Saving both species," Meryl said. And in the midst of all his trauma, Knives gathered enough energy and nerve, to stare warning at her, his mouth part open. She could almost hear his words. 

_Don't you dare!_

She ignored him, having the angel's complete attention now. This was her chance. And she took it. "He needs your help to fortify this planet with life. Vegetation. So that humanity can live on its own, and the plant angels can go free…" 

Knives choked, but then he saw his sister's entire demeanor change. Large, lashless, onyx orbs lost their berserker edge. Her gaze fixed on Meryl, then they turned to her brother. Back to Meryl. Back to him. After a tense moment, Knives banged his head on the floor, swearing softly. 

It was enough. The fight left the angel's body, and with it, her strength. Mouth went slack, face paled to chalk-white, and eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Meryl caught her as she fell into jerky convulsions. 

"Knives!" she screamed, trying to hold onto her. "Help!" 

Still spitting blood, Knives shimmied around on the floor, spared one brief second to glare murderously at Meryl, and then lifted himself up until his partially transformed angel arm was able to reach the remaining stretched tentacles that attached his sister to the plant core. "Hold her tight," he said roughly. 

Meryl did as told, bracketing the bleeding spasmodic female against her chest, all her prior intimidation shifting to worry. _It'll be okay_, she urged silently. _Hang in there…_

Meryl tried to keep the freak out factor at a minimum as Knives proceeded to "unattach" his sister from her prison. His angel arm moved, and molded, and grew…until it seemed to completely fuse with the fleshy appendages on his sister's back. The process sounded like stretching rubber, and it seemed to drain them both considerably. Mid-convulsion, his sister whimpered. He grimaced, teeth clenched, as one by one the living cords were severed from her body. 

_There's so much blood…_ Meryl thought, noticing that she as well was now drenched in the life source. How could any living thing survive such loss? She rested her lips against the angel's sweaty crown, not knowing if she should panic, or be relieved as the convulsions slowed. 

The last umbilical cord fell to the ground with a sick, rubbery crunch, and Meryl caught pieces of words as Knives inquired of his sister… 

_Have to…remove…conductors…_

And her half-conscious response. A weary but positive acknowledgement. She gave him permission to do whatever it was. Knives bowed his head, breathing heavily. He shifted in obvious strain to try and position himself better, and then he looked up at Meryl, without saying word. 

She squirmed, her hold on the plant lessening. "Are you…okay? Do you need me to… I mean… Is there anything—" 

"Your involvement here…is becoming tedious…" 

She blinked. "Tedious? My involvement here saved both your lives." 

He shook his head, looking back at the task at hand. "Just…be still." 

_Ingrate…_ she sighed in exasperation, her attention going back to the wounded female in her arms. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

It was getting dark. 

The desert air was quickly going from warm to chilly as it tugged at Meryl's hair with a vengeance. She shivered and looked up to the slouched figure in the driver's seat of the hovercraft. He was hanging onto his consciousness by a thread. 

The last part had taken Knives the better part of an hour doing what Meryl could only describe as _absorbing_ the fat-bodied appendages off his sister's back and into his being. It had left them both half alive. But the angel had survived. 

Meryl looked painstakingly at the passed out female laying down across her lap. She feathered the black and white bangs from her knotted brow, marveling at how human she appeared now. Almost childlike. The skin of her back had been left red, puckered, swollen…but the wounds had been sealed. A chill ran down the angel's spine, and Meryl patted her for comfort. She had shed her own cloak, her shirt and even her long black leggings to help cover and protect the salvaged being. She was more than a little irritated with Knives for neglecting to bring any attire for the naked creature. 

So wearing nothing but a sleeveless blood-soaked, short-skirted dress, Meryl bore the brunt of the wind as she tried her best to shield her cargo from it. She dreaded the ride back, but not half as much as she dreaded facing Knives' fury when his sister was properly tended to… 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

"Are you sure that she needs this more than you do?" Meryl asked, as she heaved the angel's legs up onto the platform at the oasis. Sure, the girl was passed out, but at least her breathing was regular. Knives on the other hand exhaled and inhaled in shallow, irregular pants, his whole body riddled with the shakes. In some remnant of his former self, he scoffed at her as he finished aligning the angel's torso to be healed under the bulb. 

"She is far worse off than I," he said, his expression softening as he brushed his fingers against his sister's cheek, and then leaning down to press his lips against her brow. Then he pulled back enough to stare at her closed face in an open look of exasperated concern. Like a parent worrying over a wayward child. 

After all that. 

_How can he be so tender with her after she nearly killed him?_ It blew Meryl's mind. Contradicted everything she thought he was. For him to have the capacity to forgive on that scale... To care about anything besides killing off humanity was almost something she couldn't compute… 

"Everything I do," he said hoarsely, straightening his spine, and tapping on the bulb to summon his other sister, "has been for them." He turned and locked stares with Meryl. "Everything." 

Before she could respond, he jerked his chin at the exit. 

"Get out." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

_The jerk. Dismissing me, like that…_

Discouraged hands shoved what little belongings she had into a dusty bag. 

_After everything I've done. Of my own FREE will…_

Zip. Snap. Luggage over shoulder with a hearty 'hmph!'. 

_Well, I hope his sisters give him hell. Hope they strong-arm his happy ass into sprouting trees and daisies all over Gunsmoke. For the very people he hates—_

"They're going to, thanks to you." 

Rude. Arrogant. Condescending. 

She spun around, not much inclined to be civil. She glared at him angrily, and he glared back at her, leaning heavily against a wall. Snorting, Meryl stormed past him with her nose in the air. Knives' nerves were obviously raw, and if she'd learned anything about him these past couple days, it was that he had a tough time disciplining his temperment when he was this beat down. She heard him inevitably shuffle after her, his words coming out in an angry lecture. 

"One just told the other about your false ideals, so now I have _two_ sisters harping on promises I never made, and have no intent to honor," he growled, his filter clearly not in place. "You have _no_ idea how complicated you've made my situation. If they weren't so cognizant of your life, I would kill you for daring to defy me." 

Funny how she only heard the last part. "You'd kill me? Well, isn't that nice. Tell me - is that your answer to everything?" 

She heard him swear, and then pause. "Where do you think you're going?" 

She turned her head enough to snap at him. "What do you mean, 'where are you going'? _You're_ the one who told me to GET OUT!" 

His face scrunched. "What?" 

"Hmph." She marched on without turning around, more agitated than she'd ever been in all her life. If he so much as— 

"I meant the chamber," he clarified rudely. "Not the ship, you half-wit." 

_Half wit!?_ As she tensed, his large hand curled around her bicep from behind. Big mistake. Not only was she beyond angry, but he'd just foolishly informed her that his sisters were watching out for her well being. So she clocked him. Turned right around, and punched him in the eye. 

"Agh!" He swore, and staggered back, a hand up to nurse the forming bruise. He gaped shock at her, then shook himself. His lip twitched up in a snarl, and he lunged. Meryl yelped as he tackled her to the ground. 

Even in this bruised and bloodied state, he was still unnaturally strong. Hands gripped her wrists and pinned them back as he flattened the rest of her with his body. His pupils shrunk to pinpricks in his ire, making those ice cold irises twice as intense. 

Meryl's blood was roaring in her ears. She was afraid of him, furious at him, and something else she couldn't identify – all at once. Besides, he was damn heavy. "Get off me!" 

The muscles in his jaw jumped, and his breath was hot. "You're staying here. You're keeping silent, and you're going to stop _conspiring_ against me—!" 

"Then you stop conspiring against humans!! You're not _God_, Knives! You can't punish millions of innocents for the evils of a few!" Her jewelry jangled with each vehement word. A growl rumbled in his throat, and worked its way up, but just as he opened his mouth, her platinum necklace reflected a ray of light in his eyes, making him glance down at her throat. 

He did a double take. Frowned. Everything stopped as he leaned down to stare at what she assumed – what she _hoped_ was her necklace - until she felt his invasive breath along her collarbone. Meryl's alarm gave way to wonderment, as he seemed to completely forget about the conflict at hand. And to have him this close, without the distraction of his palpable animosity for her… It was confusing. Especially since her body was having a number of different, unauthorized reactions to being pinned down by him like this… 

She felt herself blushing. 

"Your necklace," he said, without lifting his eyes. 

She swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden observation that his mouth was real pretty when he wasn't using it to say mean things. "My parents had it made for me…" 

"Your…parents?" He looked up, staring in an intense mix of intrigued confusion. Hadn't he been bullying her just a second ago? And did he honestly intend to have a conversation while he was still on top of her like this?? 

Meryl blew her bangs from her eyes, and lifted her brow. "Umm…" She hadn't had to explain this to someone in a long time. Most people had trinkets, or cameos on their chains, or perhaps their name spelled out in gold. But not Meryl. No. She had to have a cyberpod number hanging on her neck. 

But she wouldn't have it any other way. It was the only thing that connected her to her lost past. "My cyberpod was only discovered 16 years ago." His fingers flinched around her wrists, and his eyes widened. Instantly self-conscious, she started to ramble. 

"It was jarred loose when the ship crashed, and had fallen into some compartment that was only excavated recently. And…well, being frozen for over one hundred years—" she wasn't about to go into how it stunted her growth, because she was still bitter about that part, "—it erased my memory. Erased everything. The people who adopted me had to teach me how to speak, how to walk… And I was 8 years old, mind you. They never found my identity. The computer files had been damaged in the crash. So all I have of my true past is my pod number. B435,296. Sentimental value, you know..." 

"B435,29…6." His lips quivered over the digits, without even looking at them, completely memorized. Unblinking, crystalline orbs bounced from her hair to her eyes, to her mouth. Back to her eyes. As though seeing her for the first time. 

_No._ Meryl thought, noticing flashes of recognition cross his features. _Not the first time. The second time. As though he's just realizing that…that…_

She quickly forgot the awkwardness of their proximity, or that his grip on her wrists had gone slack. "What! What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" she shouted, lifting her face to get in his. "Were you on my ship, Knives?? Do you know who I am!? TELL ME!!" 

He blinked. Opened his mouth to respond, but a choked gasp from the entryway distracted them both. Knives looked up and tensed as the metallic click of a cocking gun resonated. Eyes widening in unmistakable panic, he swore and flipped off her just as a shot was fired. With her stomach in her throat, Meryl rolled over, lifted her head... And felt her heart leap the same time her jaw dropped. 

_Vash!!_

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**For those that missed the significance of Meryl's cyberpod number from the end of last chapter, go back and reread middle of Chapter 4 to find out who she is. And be sure to see the manga scans on my geocities site that depict that particular scene. Link is on my bio.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

She almost didn't recognize him. 

Same spiky blonde hair, same get up, yes. But his _face…_ Never had Vash looked so murderous. She couldn't even see his pupils in those electric green orbs. His teeth flashed. Static seemed to spark and crackle about his entire rigid form, giving him the presence of an enraged deity. He fired, and fired and fired. No hesitation. No inner conflict. 

He was going to _kill_ his brother. 

She went to cry out but her voice caught in her throat. Looking at him like this, it abruptly dawned on her how it must have looked when Vash arrived. Most of her clothes were gone, and she was still smeared in blood. _Knives_ was still smeared in blood. 

And with the way Knives had been forcing her wrists back, and caging her to the ground her a second ago… 

"Vash!" she choked, stumbling to her feet. "It's not what you think!" 

When he heard her voice, his eyes watered, and his fury seemed to double. More shots rang out. With as wounded and exhausted as Knives was, it was a miracle he had avoided being hit thus far, his speed just a blur to Meryl's eyes. He finally disappeared behind a wall, his labored breathing rattling in the entire chamber. 

"_Idiot…_" he panted in low guttural tones. "I wasn't—" 

"I'll kill you!" Vash shouted with intense emotion. "I'll kill you for touching her!!" He reloaded his gun and made to finish him off. 

But Meryl intercepted him with her arms wide out. "Vash, listen! He wasn't hurting me!" 

He took one look at her half-naked bloodied form, and the water in his eyes spilled over. Teeth still clenched, he wiped them, his face creasing in anguish. "He brainwashed you, Meryl," he choked in between trembling breaths. "Sit down. You're unaware of the damage..." a sob turned into a growl, and he jerked his chin up, and shouted. "You'll _pay_, Knives! For everything you've done to her!!" 

Meryl grabbed his coat to stop him as he tried to step past her. "You're wrong! He didn't brainwash me!" she plead. "He can't!" 

Pained sympathy interspersed the rage. Vash didn't believe her. Not by a long shot. He gently pried her fingers from his coat, his attention ahead – and it was _then_ that Knives – in his desperation - attempted to do the very thing Vash had accused him of. 

Meryl yelped as an invasive mental force slammed against the barriers of her mind, trying to control her thoughts. Her body. Trying to get her – of all things – to withdraw the small pistol from her thigh holster and _shoot_ Vash. Her rage flared, her teeth grit, and with a mental slam that put her earlier rebounds to shame, she flung his attempt back at him with the force of an avalanche. 

"Get the HELL out of my HEAD!" 

With a choked grunt, Knives cried out in agony, and buckled – collapsing out of his hiding place. Instead of glaring, or reprimanding her like usual, he merely curled up in a fetal position, whimpering and clutching his scalp between trembling hands. 

She'd hurt him. Bad. 

Vash paused, his eyes going from murderous to disbelieving. He looked at her, and then he looked at his brother. Back to her. "You…were able to resist his mind control…" he uttered. 

"I _know_ that, you oaf! That's what I've been trying to tell you—" 

Vash disappeared, or at least seemed to. Meryl spun around in a panic until she saw him materialize over Knives incapacitated form. He leaned down and grabbed his wounded brother by the neck, lifting him up until his feet were suspended in the air. Knives spasmed violently, his eyes scrunched shut as he struggled for air. 

And apparently one of the shots _had_ wounded him, Meryl realized, as fresh blood dripped from a chunk taken out of his forearm. She considered how the plant angel had almost killed Knves today with her bare hands. She considered his exhausted state after freeing that same sister from her bulb. Then he'd been punched in the eye. Shot. Mentally sandblasted. And now his only brother was dangling him in the air by his neck. 

_Good grief, he's had a rough day._

She watched nervously as Vash studied him, as though assessing his capacity for danger. In the midst of his trauma, Knives managed to peek open one blood-shot eye at his captor and snarl – still defiant. Still furious. 

Then without warning, Vash hucked him. Pitched him straight against the metal wall. Knives' head hit with a sickening crack, and he slumped to the ground, twitching, but unconscious. Meryl winced, her instinct telling her to go care for him. But logic suggested that he'd be fine. Especially since it was obvious that Vash had decided to let him live for now. 

She held her hand up. "Vash…" 

He turned slowly, and faced her. After a display like that, she expected some residual rage to be etched in his face; but the moment he laid his eyes on her, all she could see was worry. Worry and grief. 

He covered the distance between them in three large steps, stopping himself just before he crushed her with a hug. "Meryl…" he said, searching her face, her body for any sign of pain, "Are you hurt?" 

She shook her head, her heart warming as another set of tears rolled down his cheeks. "This isn't my blood, Vash. He hasn't lifted a finger against me, except to stop me from leaving just now." 

His brow knotted in the middle. "You're sure?" 

Nod. 

With a teary grimace, he startled her by falling to his knees, wrapping his arms around her hips, and burying his face in her belly. Bawling. Warm hiccupping breaths puffed against the material of her short dress, interspersed with pained throaty weeping. 

_Oh, Vash…_

Her eyes watered, and she cursed herself for having done this to him. For making him worry. But this moment – knowing that he cared so much was almost too much for her heart to handle. She cradled his head, hugging him back. "Vash… I'm sorry." 

With a sniffle, he wiped his face against her abs and abruptly stood, his expression having gone from relieved to angry. The edge in his voice near hysterical. 

"What the hell were you thinking!? You did this of your own free will!" So totally volatile, he hugged her fiercely again, and then pulled back to yell at her some more with wet, frustrated eyes. "He's dangerous! I _told_ you he was dangerous! How could you run off with him like that? Do you take me for that big a fool?" 

"No. Of course not," she said quietly. "I believed you..." 

He coughed exasperation and shook his head. "Then _why_…!?" 

"Because I thought I could--!" she stopped, mid-yell, to glance and make sure Knives was still unconscious. Her next words trailed out in a desperate whisper. "Because I believed I could make a difference. Look," she raised both hands up and cupped his face, rubbing away his residual tears with her thumbs. "Risk prevention is my _job_, Vash. And Knives is a risk." 

He blinked, his frown deepening. 

"Besides," she continued with a more apologetic tone, "I did promise to help him heal. And when he called me on it…" she dropped her hands and looked down, "I couldn't just walk away like you wanted me to. I'm a woman of my word, Vash." 

He finally sighed, rubbing his brow with his thumb and forefinger. "I know. I know you are." Now that he wasn't supported by his panic and rage, she noticed the bags under his eyes. Vash looked weary. So weary. She realized that he probably hadn't slept in the past couple days, looking for her. 

"Well," he looked back at his brother, who was still laid out on the ground, "at least I found you in time." He grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the exit of the ship. "I'll deal with _him_ later. Right now, I'm getting you out of here—" 

"Vash, wait." 

"No more reckless altruism, Meryl," he said with uncharacteristic firmness. "He can't change. It took me over 130 years and millions of deaths to finally realize that." 

She pursed her lips. "But don't you want to hear what's happened in the past couple days? Whose blood this is? Why there were bruises and cuts all over his neck?" 

He hesitated. Bowed his head. "Yes." After a moment's indecision, he marched on without looking back. "But only after I get you out of the lion's den." 

She yanked her hand out of his grasp. "Just hear me out!" 

He spun around. His hand opened and closed in a fist. Twice. Again he glanced over at Knives, who at the moment was just as immobile and harmless as a dead ship. His entire frame was rigid, as though every part of him yearned to carry her away from this place. His indecisive silence was her window of opportunity, so she took it. Meryl began to rattle off the entire past couple days as fast as she could. 

She told him about how Knives had contacted her, and how she had helped him escape two weeks later. She told him about Tessla. She told him about their conversations, their arguments, his failed attempts to control her mind, and the whole incident with the plant angel. And most importantly, her plan to save both species. "Don't you see the logic?" she asked after she finished. "He'll be bound, Vash! He'll have to make Gunsmoke livable in order to free your siblings!" 

Vash studied her face, having gone from intolerant to conflicted. He tried to hold on to his belligerence. She could see it in the way he pursed his lips, and narrowed his eyes. His fine black brows knotted in the center, and then lifted in indecision, then knotted in the center again. "But Meryl…" 

She cut him off by grabbing his hand. He just needed a little more encouragement. "Come. Let's go conspire with your sisters." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

_Ugh… Sore…_

Consciousness returned with great agony. Knives moaned and tried to shift his body. It disobeyed, as heavy as clay and just as useless. Feeling the presence of another, he blinked up at the energy source radiating over him. It was a bulb. He recognized it as one of the twelve from the lower chamber of the ship. The encased angel hovered close with her palms pressed against the glass, trying her best to heal him without the aid of touch. 

Half-aware and in a great deal of pain, Knives instinctively reached up to complete the connection. Survival first. Questions later. 

"Hn. I knew it wouldn't take long." 

_Shit._ He painstakingly turned his head enough to see Vash, not five yards away – sitting down with his elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped in front. His washboard hair had started to relax down around his face, no doubt due to two days of non-stop travel. 

A quick migrained glance told him that the woman wasn't there - no surprise. With as paranoid as he was, Vash probably already had her half-way to some city safe haven. Knives cursed inwardly, marveling at how quickly his plans unraveled in such a short period of time. If he was to go forward, he had to get her back. 

It pained him more than a little that he'd lost her so soon. 

Vash's emerald eyes were unblinking. Hard. As was his expression. This was perhaps the second occasion in almost 150 years that his annoying little brother had ever had the upper hand. He knew it, too, his voice mockingly pleasant. "I'd wait until you were finished healing, and all, but this conversation is safer for everyone involved if we have it while you're still somewhat incapacitated." A black-gloved hand waved his gun pointedly. 

"Conversation?" Knives pushed through bruised vocal cords, resisting the urge to rub his crushed neck. Damn, that idiot had an iron grip. 

"Yeah." 

An edgy silence passed. "I have nothing to say to you," Knives finally said. 

"Oh, I think you do." 

Knives tightened his fist. So frustrating. He really didn't feel like getting shot again, and with Vash's knee knee-jerk reaction when it came to blowing holes in his body and all… _Agh. Impulsive moron…_ He consigned himself to say nothing. Or at least he would have had he not really really wondered how in the hell, "You found me," he grumbled, voice sounding like churning gravel. "How?" 

Vash's expression didn't waver. He had expected the question, which was even more infuriating. 

_When did I become so predictable?_

One corner of Vash's lip turned up sans mirth, and he tapped his temple. "Sensed you." 

Knives coughed surprise. "What!?" He winced as his world spun, not caring enough to stop. "I try to get you to tap into that power for…for…over a CENTURY, and suddenly one incident over a human makes you care enough to finally try!?" He slugged the glass in front of him, sending the angel sprawling back. "Your disregard for your own flesh and blood knows no limits, Vash!" 

"And your disregard for human life, no different." 

"Feh. The woman was unharmed." 

Something dark flashed across Vash's face. Even bringing her up made him unbelievably tense. "Only because she could protect herself from your mind rape." 

Three very tense seconds passed. Knives' heart beat quickened, as he remembered her necklace. That face. He'd been on a thread to some great insight before his brother showed up and started shooting. "Do you know why, Vash?" he asked, marveling out loud. "Do you know why she's impervious to my control?" 

Vash said nothing. 

"Your little friend was in her cyberpod for over 115 years, before they found her." 

He could hear Vash's quick intake of breath. This was apparently news to him. 

Knives recalled Conrad's resistance to his brainwashing, and the subsequent studies to deduce why. And it had all come down to the time in cyber sleep. The doctor had been in cyber sleep 82 years. "The human body was never built to withstand such a prolonged homeostasis. It would die, if there were not something to compensate for the failure of the flesh. Something intangible, that can't be frozen or weakened by duration, or machines ." 

"What…what are you saying?" 

"Augmented spiritual power," he said, shaking his head. And he'd been so distressed over her resilience, too. "Her ethereal fortitude was amplified so that it could remain attached to a near-dead body for all those years. Were it not for that, they would have discovered nothing but a corpse when they opened her pod." 

He looked over, pleased to see the honest surprise in Vash's features. Knives could have expounded. He could have told Vash that she'd been on their ship, and could have even gone so far as to mention…that… 

Some random pang squeezed his heart right then. _Of all the billions of humans on this planet, and it had to be that girl…_ No. There was no way he would divulge that bit of information. He doubted Vash would remember her, anyhow. 

"So she's your equal—" 

"Equal?" Knives nearly sat upright, battling a wave of vertigo. "Don't insult me." 

"Hmm…" Vash rubbed the stubble on his chin, studying him. "So…" 

"So." 

"You took her for a reason, Knives, and I doubt it was just because you needed a ride." 

Knives smirked. "I took no one. She brought herself, and stayed because she wanted to. What's more, your little human wants to free our people." 

"Well, now that she's discovered a way to do that without wiping out humanity in the process, so do I." 

Knives' smirk straightened. He really wasn't thinking clearly. Of course she would have mentioned her ridiculous 'plan'. 

"And our sisters seem to have all fallen in love with the idea." 

Knives's jaw set. _No. Don't do this..._ He looked up to see a soft smile from the angel above him, who floated down long enough to emit her vibe of approval. It was seconded by the eleven others, stationed along the large lower chamber, their bulbs fluttering with acceptance and hope. 

Panic filled him. His heart was palpitating out of control. Knives struggled to lift himself up, but his wounded arm gave out, causing him to slip off the platform and crash to the floor. He grunted, and looked despite the blinding pain at his naive, mutinous siblings. _Are you so easily fooled!?_ he shouted mentally in desperation. _Do you realize what would happen if this were carried out?_

Knives struggled to stay conscious, even though he felt like he was suddenly suffocating. _It can't work! Humans will destroy you!_

"It depends on how it's done, Knives," Vash said. 

"Wrong!" he choked. "If you free them now, you'll be consigning us all to death! Humans are a poisonous species, Vash. Their greatest weapon is their disregard for all life. Including ours, and including their own!" 

"You're wrong," Vash countered firmly. "You're wrong, Knives. They are no different from us, with as much capacity for good as evil." He pointed to his chest, and then made a sweeping motion across the floor. "I see it. Our sisters see it. And it's time that you see it. You can only save our kind, by saving theirs." 

Knives choked, his vision turning black. _Curse that woman, and her big mouth!_ "I'll _not_ aid you in this!" 

"Of course you will." He smiled. A measured silence passed. "Its the only way, Knives." 

Knives closed his eyes and struggled for breath. 

Vash continued. "The people of this planet are not going to wipe themselves into extinction. Which means in order for _your_ methods to be realized, you'd have to kill off humanity yourself. And despite everything you say, I don't think you really want to have anymore human blood on your hands." 

"If...if you're s-suggesting that I regret the lives that were lost in The Fall," cough, pant. "_You're mistaken!_" 

"Oh? Then why didn't you finish the job you started? It's not like you haven't had the time. Or the resources." 

"_Vash..._" he trembled. 

"Help us free our sisters. It's pointless to wait for chance or circumstance, when we can stop the exploitation starting now." 

His headache reeled out of control. Knives arched back, and grabbed his scalp. He was barely aware of the shuffle by the entrance. 

"After what I've seen…" it was the woman's voice. Knives jerked his head, and squinted through the pain enough to focus. She strode into the chamber in cleaned attire. Her hair was in disarray, and her face tired, but there was such intensity in those eyes. She looked pointedly at him. "After what I've seen, it's the only way your angels will come willingly, Knives. By making sure mankind will survive without them." 

Knives grit his teeth as he looked at her, and in his current state, he was ill-prepared to cope with her discovered identity. Everything blurred again. Now that the connection was made, she distracted him greatly. Took his mind and his heart back to the time before Tessla. When, in his greatest weakness, he'd cared about humans. A good deal. And seeing her, now, it made him feel like he'd run into an old friend, when in reality he'd simply made up her personality when he was a child – having nothing to go off of but those long-lashed lilac eyes, and that shy smile… He'd spent so many damn hours staring at her profile. Had hoped so desperately back then that when she woke up, maybe she'd accept him. 

He bit the inside of his cheek. Hard. "You... You're still here." 

"She wouldn't leave," Vash said, smiling at her. "She's stubborn like that."

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Again, refer to the manga scans on my geocities site, for this chapter. **

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Meryl shivered as the sound of grinding teeth reached her ears. A crazed gleam flickered in Knives' eyes. His face began to redden. She saw Vash tense in her peripheral vision. There was a long, intense pause. 

She realized that ganging up on Knives might not have been the best idea. 

"_Evolution…_" Knives' words were a whisper, but the white-hot anger that emanated from his being hit her like a blow to the gut. Meryl took a step back, battling a wave of nausea. "Why? Why would I stand in its way when I see such _logic in its COURSE!?_" 

Vash's eyes narrowed to slits. "And what exactly _is_ its course, brother? Because the only end I see to all this is a stalemate." 

Knives scoffed. "Stalemate?" He managed to push himself up on all fours. "STALEMATE!?" 

Meryl gulped. _Uh-oh…_

Knives slammed his fist in the ground, clearly not caring that he wasn't the one with a gun. "Of the 1567 plant angels left, over 500 are in their last stages. They're finally burning out, Vash. Turning _black._" He rose on wobbly knees, his enraged visage like a death sentence in itself. "WE. ARE. DYING! Did you just assume that my aggression these past couple decades was mere coincidence? The result of a deteriorating mind!?" 

Vash said nothing, but the news of his sisters' waning health was news to him. Honest distress tugged on his features, which only added fuel to Knives' fire. The latter bowed his head, and a low throaty rumbling reached their ears. Vash stood to his feet and moved protectively in front of Meryl as the sound crescendoed until Knives threw his head back and filled up the room with maniacal cackling. 

Cold chills spun like spiders down Meryl's spine. _This… This is the side Vash warned me about…_

The laughter erupted into incoherent invective as he locked Vash in his fiery gaze. "IMBECILE! I've been trying to save you from yourself, all these years!" He pounded his forehead with the heels of his palms, then tugged at his hair in crazed exasperation. "Tried to show you the obvious. I've even given you tools so you could help preserve our species, and _now…_" 

He swayed, twitching to keep his balance, and looking more hysterical than Meryl had ever seen him. "And _now_ when it's plain that your precious humans are in fact slaying our sisters on a mass scale with_out_ hesitation or remorse," he sucked in a deep, gasping breath, "you _still_ betray us! You conspire against me! You'd sooner damn them," he made a spastic sweeping motion at the bulbs along the wall, "than the very beings who are killing them. Curse your sentimentality, Vash! It's an inexcusable, destructive weakness_ngh!_" 

He grimaced, yipped at some internal pain and collapsed against the base of the platform beneath the bulb. Meryl gasped, and reflexively went to aid him, but Vash collared her back. He said nothing, moving his hand from her shirt to her bicep. His grip was firm, emerald eyes fixed on his struggling brother. 

"Knives…" Vash said after several moments of silence. "I am saying that I will aid you in freeing them." 

"You're not touching them!" he growled. "You'll poison them. Your words have already beguiled those in my care, ripening them up for abuse and exploitation. You've done enough damage!" 

Meryl saw the muscles in Vash's jaw jump, and his grip on her shoulder tightened. The room blitzed off and on with light, and Meryl realized that the dozen angels along the wall had floated down to the surface of their bulbs, palms against the glass, large black orbs bouncing back between Vash and Knives. They were hanging on every word. 

"We are coming to you with a plan that will work, Knives. A method that will accomplish what you've been trying to do all along. Preserve our species." 

"While empowering their predators!" 

This conversation was too much for Knives to handle. Meryl thought his head might explode if some resolution wasn't found soon. His fortress of self-conviction seemed impervious to the rationale of Vash's words. Impervious to the numbers against him. She got the distinct impression that every plant in existence could plead with him to spare humanity – and he still wouldn't budge in his resolve. All they were doing was making him angrier, and angrier, and angrier… 

"Vash…" She tugged on his arm. "Maybe we should continue this conversation when he's feeling better." 

Vash shook his head. "He's dangerous when he's feeling better." 

Knives snorted with biting sarcasm. "Still afraid of me, little brother?" 

Vash's conflicted expression set. He let go of Meryl and drew his gun, aiming it right at Knives' head. "This _was_ plan B," he said, his eyes clouded with resolution. "I can stick with plan A, and do this without you." 

Knives tensed. Meryl grabbed Vash's arm. "Vash, no…" 

He ignored her. "What'll it be, Knives? If I've learned anything from you in all these years, it's that one has to make sacrifices for the greater good…" 

Knives' lips thinned, moving over unvoiced objections. He fisted his hips, and banged his head soundly against the platform. Meryl watched him – or rather, _felt_ him - shift rapidly through a series of emotions, going from frustrated belligerence to apprehensive, to something alarmingly low key. The angels hovered anxiously. An edgy silence passed. 

"Idiot," he drawled out finally. Wearily. "I'll never help you save our people's killers." 

"Then tell me you won't interfere." 

"Of course I'll interfere. You're not qualified for the tremendous undertaking of liberating our kind." 

Vash grit his teeth, and clamped a hand over his face, scrunching his eyes shut. "Dammit, Knives. Do you _want_ to die?" 

Knives studied him as bitter resolution hardened his face. His chest rose and fell with barely audible panting, as his breathing calmed. He sighed, and tilted his head back. "Ah, Vash. I liked you so much better when you cried every time we discussed humanity's fate." 

Vash cocked his gun warningly. Meryl bit her tongue. 

Knives spoke to the ceiling in a near-whisper, as though to himself. "I had hoped to do this with fewer casualties, but in the end, the culmination of our negligence is manifesting. We'll lose more if we wait." Expression set, he met Vash's eyes with grim acceptance. "They'll hunt you. And they'll kill some. Your efforts to salvage humanity will fail. Will backfire." 

Vash lowered his gun, and Meryl held her breath. 

Knives continued, his words dropping like lead weights from his lips. "You want to make this planet habitable for the humans? Then go ahead and try. Give our sisters the incentive they need to leave their prisons, and I'll be a step behind, capitalizing on your blaring ignorance in order to liberate them from their naivety. And as you try in vain to save the six million _parasites_ left on this miserable planet, I'll be preparing a haven that doesn't include humanity _or_ your foolish dreams for co-existence." 

As they gaped at him in apprehensive shock, Knives shakily rose to his knees and ambled back on top of the platform, where he reached up and palmed the bulb. "When mankind caves in on itself, the plant angels won't be caught in the rubble," he said as his molecular structure altered, enabling him to rise up through the glass and into the bulb. Encased with his sibling, his final words were broadcasted telepathically…a morbid echo that even Meryl could hear. 

_And as for you, I did all I could…_

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

"Are you okay?" Meryl asked, plunking down next to Vash in the soft grass by the quaint little stream. With Knives and his sister still healing, they were alone again. Which was good. Meryl figured they had a lot to talk about. And Vash had lost his vibrato the second they'd left that room, returning once again to his worrisome, conflicted self. 

Elbows on knees, head tilted back absorbing the yellow haze of a stray sunbeam, Vash inhaled deeply and sighed. "Hm. If that was a victory," he dropped his chin to give her a rueful smile, the light still catching on his lashes, "then why am I so uneasy about it?" 

Meryl blew the bangs out of her eyes and leaned back on her wrists. "At least he isn't going to fight it. I mean, you and your sisters might have to teach your_selves_ how to do that plant magic stuff—" 

"Alchemy." 

"Hm?" 

"It's alchemy. What our species can do. Take one substance, and make another out of it. Knives is just better at it than the rest of us." 

"Oh…" She could only stare. He made it sound so simple – all those things she'd seen them do. Like generate energy from nothing, alter their molecular structure, create an oasis in the barren wasteland that was Gunsmoke… She shook her head. "It's amazing, whatever it is." 

Absent nod. His gaze fixed on some random point in the chamber, as the conversation took an expected turn. "I…I had no idea so many of my sisters were dying," he whispered, his guilt nearly palpable. "And here I've wasted so many years living in…in…" his hand tightened into a fist, "_denial_. Hoping things would just work themselves out. Afraid of Knives. Afraid of myself." 

"The answer was somewhere between the two of you, Vash. Your heart, and his protective instinct," she rubbed his forearm for emphasis. "The time is now. Not before. Not in a few years. But now. We have a plan, and we're sticking to it." 

He smiled hopelessly at her, as though the reality was just now sinking in. "But over six million lives, Meryl. Six MILLION. Knives will take care of our sisters, but how am I going to be able to provide for all of humanity when I don't even know how to," he ripped some grass blades out of the dirt, and flung them, "how to grow a blade of grass!?" 

She understood his anxiety. But she was too enthused to subscribe to it. "You'll learn, Vash, because you finally have a reason to. You found _me_, didn't you? And it's not like you're going to be alone in this, remember?" She bumped shoulders with him, and smiled. "I've been thinking ahead. Milly's father is a city planner for January – the biggest city of all of Gunsmoke. We'll recruit his skills, and your sisters can map out where the water table is highest to the planet's surface. We could maybe start out with a lake, and a few trees, in the shade of a cliff. You know, one step at a time, and," she stopped, distracted by the shimmer in his eyes, and the gracious smile that split his face. He was so cute when he got emotional. "Vash?" 

"I'm beginning to think that if you're by my side, I can do anything." 

"Uh…heh." She blushed, and stared down at her knees, forgetting her train of thought. She could feel him grinning at her, like she could feel the moisture in the air. Light breathy laughter, and he drew his legs up to his chest, and rested his chin on his knees. When he looked away, she risked a glance only to see his happy visage simmer down to something more pensive. More desperate. The moisture in his eyes stayed. 

"Do you really think he can change, Meryl?" he asked quietly. "Knives, I mean." 

"Ah…" she tried to quiet her twitterpated heartbeat, and reluctantly shifted gears. There'd be time later for deducing how he really felt about her. Right now, Vash needed her reassurance that there was hope for Knives. She considered the older brother's temperament. His bullheadedness. His capacity for destruction, all balanced out by this inexplicable, but fierce devotion to the well-being of his people. 

"He loves," she said simply. "I saw it, Vash. He was so nurturing with the plant angel, even after she tried to kill him. Like an older brother should be. And with me – I…it's hard to explain. It's just an impression, but I think his attitude was changing in regards to me." 

"Really?" 

The tone in his voice was so hopeful, she wanted to cry. Vash still loved him. Even after everything he'd done. She smiled and nodded. "I think with time, and experience, we can make him see that plants and humans are siblings in heart and mind." 

Pause. Sad smile. "He did, once. Back then." 

She frowned. "What?" 

Vash shook his head nostalgically. "Knives used to say that. That humans and plants had the same heart. That we were no different. Tried to convince me of it all the time, but I was so skeptical." 

Meryl blinked, trying to assimilate this latest bit of information. It contradicted everything she knew about the two brothers. "Eh?" 

He shook his head. "You know…" he tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth, suddenly looking so young. "Knives…back then. You would have never believed it if you would have known him. He was crazy about your people. Loved humans more than Milly loves kids. He'd spend hours, and I mean HOURS staring at the cyberpods in the cryo-chamber. Drove me nuts, sometimes. He'd go through thousands of profiles, daydreaming about what people would be like, how exciting it would be when they woke up…" 

He laughed, lost somewhere between then and now. Meryl listened wordlessly, marveling at how surreal it was to see Vash talk about his malevolent brother with such fondness. Marveling at the innocence Knives once had. And remembering the way Knives looked at her when he saw her necklace. If he'd spent hours looking at profiles, then he really might have remembered her. Curious as she was, she knew _that_ conversation would have to wait for when he was healed. Now, she needed to listen to Vash's story. 

"He was so anxious. So impatient. Didn't want to wait until the ships landed to meet more people, so one time," Vash chuckled, despite the mood, "One time Knives triggered an Emergency level 2. On purpose! Woke the backup crew right up. Oi, Rem was pissed. I think it was the only time I ever saw her get mad…" 

Meryl tried to picture it. Vash and Knives cowering while Rem lectured them heartily. It was almost funny. "Did…" she hated interrupting, but she had to know. "Did the crew accept you, like he'd hoped?" 

Vash snorted. "They didn't find out. Rem hid us. The crisis was resolved, and they went back into cryo-stasis. All but Dr. Conrad, that was," his eyes grew melancholy. A sweet sadness permeated the air between them. "Dr. Conrad…" 

Vash lingered in memory, giving Meryl the impression that this Dr. Conrad was someone very _very_ significant. 

"Finally seeing another human froze us both right up, worried stiff over the 'what ifs'. We sat, with our knees knocking as Rem told him everything. And when he approached us, I thought for sure we were in trouble." 

"But Dr. Conrad didn't reject you?" 

Vash smiled. "No. He accepted us. Just like that. Knives fell apart, he was so relieved. Started bawling like a baby. And after that day, his excitement tripled. So foolishly optimistic, he was insufferable." 

Vash's smile faded. Sagged, like he had rocks attached to the corners of his lips. And Meryl knew, without being told, that he was thinking about… "Vash, you don't have to—" 

"Tessla…" The name echoed. Vash's eyes were distant. Pained. So far away from Meryl, and this place. "Everything changed, that day." 

Meryl allowed the silence to fall. She recalled with gory, hurtful detail the vision she'd been shown. So unspeakable… The horrors those bastards had inflicted on that poor girl child… 

Vash's hands were shaking, and he flattened them out over his calves. "I thought Rem was going to do the same thing to us that they had to Tessla. I was sure of it. So I…I tried to kill myself…" a set of tears materialized, and he brushed them aside. "And when Rem stopped me, I tried to kill _her_." 

Meryl's eyes widened, and she stared at the being she thought she knew so well… "You…what?" 

Shuddering inhale. Nod. "Sliced her hand in half with a knife, and stabbed her in the gut." 

Meryl rested her fingers lightly on his arm, not able to picture it to save her life. "Vash…" She could actually _feel_ how much the memory hurt him, but he bludgeoned through it. Meryl wondered if it was the first time he'd ever told anyone about this. 

He wiped his eyes on his shoulder, and continued. "And when she lay there on the floor, with blood everywhere… I realized that I didn't want to kill anybody, especially Rem." His fingers dug little indentions in the black leather of his pants and he bowed his head. He bowed his head, and hid his face. It took several seconds for him to compose himself while Meryl struggled to breathe through a constricted throat. 

"I…" he sniffled, and raised his face. "I resolved myself to live, that day. No matter what. I resolved myself to see the good, like her. But…but Knives…" 

"What happened?" 

Vash's expression turned dark. "He never coped with it at all. His devotion and love for humanity had been tremendous, so when he discovered what his beloved humans had done to someone just like us… He fainted outright. It shattered him completely." 

Meryl shook her head. This telling was almost too much for her to handle. No wonder Vash had held onto his hope for so many years. 

"He was out for a very long time. And instead of lashing out like I did when he came to, he…he acted like nothing had happened." 

Meryl's hand flung to her mouth. "What!?" 

"Smiled, apologized for worrying us, and said he was hungry." 

Meryl could only gawk. _That's…that's where he lost it…_

"Oh, he went through the routines of everyday life. Played games with us, engaged in conversation. But something in his brain broke that day. I could see it in the way he'd zone out, sometimes, how deeply he'd withdraw when alone. I could see it when he smiled with false cheer, and empty eyes. Rem saw it, too. But we had no idea…what he was planning…" 

"The Great Fall." 

Vash grimaced. "To do something that drastic, to prepare to wipe out the entire Seeds Project, along with thousands of his own kind… The compassionate, kind-hearted child that was my brother was overrun by a machine. Everything was pragmatic after that. Robotic. Like a launched missile." 

Meryl squeezed his arm, and whether it was to give him reassurance, or herself, she didn't know. He clamped a heavy hand over hers and squeezed back. If only they could somehow get Knives to tap into that lost sentiment. To open up the valve of his heart that had been shut down all those years ago. 

"I believe we can reach him, Vash. The opportunity is unprecedented, right?. This project is going to last years. He'll have to work directly with you, myself, Milly for a common goal. And co-working with people can foster friendships, and friendships foster trust, and trust can open eyes, and hearts, and minds… It's going to be awfully hard to pigeonhole all of humanity when he finally has to live alongside some that aren't psychotic or brainwashed." 

He smiled broadly at her over his shoulder. And it was an honest smile, finally. Not tinged by sadness or regret. "I hadn't thought of that. But if there's anyone that could reach him, it's you." 

"Why…why do you say that?" 

"Because you reached _me_." He winked at her, and made her blush by reaching over and crushing her to him with a big, one-armed hug. "And believe me, when someone helps a lost soul find inner peace after 130 years of hellish turmoil, I'm inclined to believe that that someone can change the perspective of just about anyone."

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"I think this'll fit… Wait. No. This one, here." 

Meryl held up a long synthetic rayon blue and gray jumpsuit to the nearly naked plant angel, and measured. She'd found a series of living compartments in the recesses of the ship, that still were equipped with old attire. Arms, long. Shoulders might be too snug, however, "Yeah. This will do for now." 

The plant angel blinked at her quizzically, with those enormous black orbs. Meryl smiled disarmingly, wondering how such an obscure feature could radiate so much warmth. She quietly wondered if all of them would be so quick to accept her. 

"You know I'm your friend, don't you…" she said quietly. 

The angel tilted her head, her pale flaxen expression seemingly blank, but the telepathic compassion that emanated off her being was answer enough. _Yes…_

"Good," Meryl said, dutifully aiding the awkward being into the restrictive attire. The scars on her back from where Knives had severed her from those fleshy appendages, puckered and dimpled as she twisted into the suit. But she didn't seem to be in pain. The healing had done its job. "Well, I think it's time we gave you a name. Do you have any preference—?" 

The angel grunted something inarticulate, and abruptly clamped both hands on Meryl's head. The shorter woman startled as she was assaulted by a brief, but deliberate vision. From a time when the angel was still encased in Little Jersey, looking down on the gracious face of a young girl, chatting amiably with her through the bulb, all giggles and smiles. Perhaps a daughter of one of the plant's engineers. Tiny arms held up a white-haired, winged doll. 

_"See? Daddy bought her for me because she looks like you. I even named her Angela…"_

The vision stopped, and the angel balanced Meryl to keep her from falling over. Meryl shook herself to clear the memory, wondering if she was ever going to get used to that mental transfer thing. "Angela," she said, once collected. 

The angel's mouth parted just the slightest. 

"That's a lovely name." 

The barest hint of a smile lifted Angela's lips, and she shimmied into the rest of the suit with more enthusiasm. Meryl zipped it up, and grabbed her hand. "Well then, Angela. Let's go and do something with this hair of yours." She guided her out of the compartment, and though the angel was a good foot taller, Meryl still had the sensation of toting along an innocent child. She sat her down by her belongings, and got out a hairbrush and some gauze wrap to serve as a tie. 

"It's so thick, and there's so much of it…" she commented, trying to run her fingers through the snags in the long white-black tresses. The fair hair strands were fine and silken to the touch, but the charcoalized patches that started at the base of her scalp and ended half-way up, were coarse. It didn't take a genius to figure out that their hair color was a gauge of their lifespan. When it went all black, then... She shivered. _It's a good thing he freed you when he did, Angela…_

The angel kept trying to turn around. Meryl gently redirected her to face forward. "You'll have to wait until Milly gets here for something more elaborate, I'm afraid. All I can do is a ponytail. Speaking of Milly," she said, taking the brush to it, "Vash should be back here with her and her father sometime today. You'll like my co-worker. She's got the most contagious smile of anyone I know. And maybe we can teach you how to use your voice to speak. I imagine most people probably won't be receptive to the telepathy." 

Mild apprehension bled off the angel, and Meryl squeezed her shoulder for reassurance. 

"Don't worry. There's no rush. And Milly will absolutely love you - with, or without language. Vash is explaining the situation to her before she arrives. This task will be huge, but we only need a few of us to start." 

The angel tensed. Meryl sensed her wariness. And she sensed why. 

"I know Knives won't be the most pleasant person to work with, but I believe we can still do this, regardless of his attitude." Meryl wrapped the gauze around the bunched hair at the nape of her neck, and tied a clumsy bow. "Done." 

The angel stood, and jerked her attention towards the lower chambers. She went rigid. 

"He's awake?" Meryl asked. 

Angela's hands curled and uncurled, a slight frown furrowing her brow. It was clear that her feelings regarding her little brother were still mixed. What might have been enthusiasm with Vash, was only distrust and lingering resentment with Knives. Meryl, however was glad he was awake. She had some unfinished business with the plant boy. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

He saw her enter the control room in his peripheral vision. Cleaned white suit, hair flopping about her brow, hands twitching by her sides... A ball of tension in an otherwise serene setting. Knives' back muscles immediately bunched up. 

_Just leave it to that meddlesome little vixen to be tenacious enough to find me here._ He tried to ignore her, figuring the minimal interaction in this reluctant alliance would be best. 

"There you are," she said. No catch in her voice. No hesitation. It was almost insulting how little he intimidated her. Knives focused harder on the hologram map he'd been studying. So help him, if she even gloated one tiny bit about working together… 

"Knives…" She strode towards him purposefully. He disregarded her approach, fixating on the panel… 

Until she barreled right into his personal space and bent over his chair, facing him. 

He grunted surprise at her abrupt proximity, instinctively leaning as far back as his chair would let him – but she only clamped her hands on his arm rests, boring down on him with those intense, lavender eyes. 

"Do…do you mind!?" he coughed incredulously, feeling his cheeks redden. "I was in the middle of—" 

"This." She said firmly, yanking the chain out of her shirt, dangling its ornament in front of his eyes. "We were in the middle of discussing _this_ before Vash showed up." 

The shiny, platinum cyberpod number twinkled like a hypnotic time warp. Disoriented, he blinked dumbly at it before regaining his composure. "Get…get out of my face." 

"Tell me what significance this has to you." 

_Never…_ He bit his mental tongue a second too late. Her eyes widened. She'd heard it. 

_Shit._ Flashbacks of the pretty girl in a cyberpod blitzed through his mind. He felt his palms start to tingle, and his heartbeat quicken. He thought he'd mastered the art of detaching himself from the weaknesses of his past, but that proved to be awfully difficult when one of them was staring him right in the face. So Knives - being the self-aware being that he was – pursed his lips, met her eyes, and lied. 

"Significance? What significance? It's a cyberpod number. You said so yourself." 

"You recognized it." 

"You're imagining things." 

"I saw it in your expression, Knives! Don't lie to me!" 

A growl rumbled in his throat. "You were in cyber sleep for 115 years, woman! Information like that takes more than a half-second to assimilate!" 

"But—" 

"There's nothing more to it. Do you honestly believe that of the 86.4 _million_ cyberpods in project SEEDs, I somehow came across yours??" Now that he spelled it out, the actuality of it really was astounding. He was an inherent believer in fate, and damn it all if her involvement here wasn't disturbing… 

She bit her bottom lip, and her eyes glistened. She hung her head. An emotional silence hung between them, and Knives thought he'd feel great about having the upper hand again. About hurting her. But he didn't. For the first time in his adult life, he felt invalidated about lying to a human. 

"I don't believe you," she said, fighting despair with denial. When she looked up, she was just as intense as when she'd stormed in there. "I swear, if I were any less of a person, I'd…I'd…" 

"You'd what?" he snarled. 

Her brow furrowed, and her face dropped into concentration. A moment later, Knives felt her mental probes tickle his consciousness. It wasn't enough to penetrate his thoughts, but it was enough to make him gasp. 

"…that." With a self-satisfied 'Hmph', she pushed off his chair and turned to the hologram on the panel. 

His mouth fumbled until the words took form. "Amateur… You couldn't glean information from me if you tried." 

"Really. Do you think yourself that bad of a teacher?" she flung back at him. 

He scowled. Such quick-witted, aggravating retorts. Up until recently, no one even dared to get in a verbal sparring match with him. He almost didn't know how to cope with it. "Our lessons were always interrupted." 

She folded her arms across her chest, without looking at him. The change of subjects came unexpectedly. She shook herself, and spoke in clipped words. "So what's this," she said, jerking her chin at the map of Gunsmoke. 

"A map of Gunsmoke." 

She huffed, and he smirked internally. Did the woman honestly expect him to _not_ patronize her? Knives watched as she simmered down and _really_ looked at the hologram. Her eyes taking in the significance of the clusters of red dots, interspersed by blazing yellow ones. "Are these…your sisters?" 

He said nothing. She took his silence as an affirmative. 

"And the yellow dots are…the ones that are dying?" 

Pause. "Hm." 

She grew contemplative. "So many…" 

It was a sore topic, one that was pointless to discuss. Their priority here was action. Not mourning. Again, he said nothing. 

"Those blue swirls… They don't...signify water, do they? I mean, they can't. Not on Gunsmoke." 

"Oh no?" 

"Well, they're covering over half the globe, and I've never seen any natural reservoir _anywhere_—" 

"Water table," he explained pragmatically, leaning forward to point. "These colorations signify where the water table is closest to the surface. And the largest concentration of dying plants are –" 

"January," she uttered, having absorbed the map faster that he'd expected. 

Knives leaned back in his chair, and tapped his fingers on the arms. "107 plant angels fuel that city, 27 of which are in their last stages." 

After a moment, she blew her breath out in a long whistle. "So we'll be attempting to relocate the hugest city on the planet, first." Meryl closed her eyes. "Can't we start with some place smaller?" 

All he had to do was glare at her. She exhaled in a sigh and rubbed her brow. "Alright, then. We'll have to learn—" 

"I'm leaving tomorrow." 

She spun around. "T-to… Tomorrow!?" 

His eye narrowed to slits. 

"You can't! Vash doesn't even know how to change the desert topography, yet!" 

"That's not my problem." 

"It IS your problem!" 

He felt the muscles in his jaw spasm. Had she been anyone else…even Vash, he would have backhanded her to the moon. Knives scooted to the edge of his chair, and stood slowly to his feet. She took a step back as he towered over her, still defiant. Still argumentative. 

"You misunderstand," he spoke with acidic calm. "All my sisters need is a reason to leave. Vash vowed to provide for humanity in their absence. I tell them such, they allow me free them, and in the end if mankind ends up perishing because my brother couldn't provide – then their blood is on his hands. Not mine." 

She made a fist. For a moment, he thought she was going to grab him by the collar and shake him. But the woman refrained. "_Knives…_ We need time…" 

"Do you wish further death and illness to my people?" 

"No! But…but…" 

He arched a brow. 

"You could at least show Vash how!!" 

A shuffle by the entrance. They both spun to see a very weather-worn, but wide-grinned Vash waving at them. "Show me what?" 

Meryl's expression brightened immediately, and she completely forgot about Knives, pushing off the panel to run towards his twin brother, all but hugging him when they met. 

Knives grit his teeth. Something about the reunion aggravated him. Perhaps it was how quickly she dismissed the topic at hand for the company of his idiot brother, instantly given to gaiety like everything was all right. Annoying, whatever it was. After all, the day that woman smiled like that for _him_, would be the day he knew he was doing something seriously wrong… 

"Did you find Milly? Did her father come?" Meryl was practically on her toes. 

Vash's smile broadened, and he winked at her. A moment later, the room echoed with a high-pitched resounding, "Ma'am!" 

Meryl clapped her hands. "Milly!" 

Loud, chatty conversation ensued as the tall, fair-featured woman walked in. She was dusty, with a slight edge of travel-wear in her voice, but just as relentlessly cheerful as ever. Shortly after her was a portly, older man. Balding. Glasses. Well-suited. Expression amiable. 

"I don't think you ever met my father," Milly announced. 

Meryl eagerly shook his hand. "No. But I'm so glad you're here, Mr. Thompson. We're going to need your skills." 

Vash clapped him a little roughly on the shoulder, and Mr. Thompson startled and then smiled ruefully at Meryl. He looked overwhelmed. "After what your friend Vash showed me yesterday…" he paused, and shook his head as though remembering. "I…I couldn't refuse." 

Meryl's smile straightened. "I hope he didn't scare you too bad." 

"Oh, he scared me plenty," he laughed nervously. "But I can't deny a just cause when I see one." 

Milly beamed. "Daddy's a good man." Then she looked as though in afterthought to finally notice Knives sitting by the panel. He tried to project his usual detached intrigue, narrowing his eyes and leaning casually against the desk. But she acted as though he'd just jumped up and waved hi. 

"Knives!" 

He stiffened as she sauntered over. 

"Wow," her eyes appraised him from head to toe. "You're standing on your own. Using your arms. You…you're completely healed. Meryl really took care of you, didn't she?" 

A muscle in his face twitched. _Took care of me?_ The ornery big-mouthed woman had done nothing but complicate his life, but those words would be wasted breath on her idiot companion here. Remembering the sandy-haired amazon from being bed-ridden for six weeks, he figured not much penetrated her happy, oblivious nature-- 

"Well, don't worry, Mr. Knives," Milly dropped her voice to a whisper, and nudged him with her elbow. "You can have her back in a moment. Probably didn't appreciate us coming in here, and taking all her attention away from you, did ya?" 

He choked. His detached reticence faltered. She smiled innocently, as though having no awareness of saying something so absurd. His lips fumbled over unformed protests. _Of all the…!_

"Anyways, it's good to see you up and about." 

_How dare she…!_

"Ciao!" 

_Insinuate that I…!!_

Milly patted his shoulder companionably and walked back. Watching her return in stupefied offense, he realized that another pair of eyes had locked on him. Meryl had picked up on his agitation and was now frowning inquisitively at him from the entrance. He felt his face redden in a heady cocktail of furious awkwardness. 

_What is it?_ she mouthed. 

He guarded his thoughts immediately, and fought the insanity like he usually did. With action. And a good change of subjects. "I decided I'm not leaving for January tomorrow," he said, forcing his voice calm. 

She brightened. 

"I'm leaving today." 

And sank. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

**TWO DAYS LATER**

Vash was exhausted. 

After Knives left so abruptly two days ago to start freeing their sisters, a true sense of urgency settled in. Mr. Thompson had been working on the city planning around the clock, while Meryl and Milly, had started preparing the old spaceship for numerous inhabitants, including clothing, bedding, food… 

And Vash… Well, he had managed to successfully extract another angel from her bulb. Tuning into her physiology was instinctive - just an extension of his ability to stabilize them when they were on the blitz. But it took him an entire day to do it safely. An entire day of aligning his alchemy with the sinews and veins, deciphering which ones were vital, and which ones were severable. 

Angela was right there with him, aiding him with glimpses of her own experience. He was grateful for her help, and relieved as all hell when they succeeded. The freed angel had been healthy to start with, so she didn't need a full healing post-liberation. 

Just a good, long nap. 

And now that they would have one extra hand, he felt more comfortable starting out with… 

"Vash. Shouldn't you rest first?" 

That voice – there was always so much behind it. She always transmitted so much more than just words… He unsuctioned his fingers from the dirt, and smiled ruefully at the woman who had just knelt down next to him. "There's no time for that." 

She tilted her head, and chewed her bottom lip. Solution. She was looking for a solution. Most would offer empty protests, but not his Meryl. That big caring heart of hers was always working overtime, trying to fix things. Proactive. Always moving forward… 

Security, and true hope. Two things she gave him…two things that had been missing from his life since the day Rem died. He couldn't express with words how glad he was that she was here. Couldn't, and didn't even try. He just hoped she didn't mind the acquisition of a 134-year old momma's boy. "I'll be okay. If I can just figure out the basics of how to vegetate, then I can show Angela, and she can take over." 

She rested a hand on his back, and shook him gently. "You know, Knives can't do it all at once, Vash. He was in worse shape than you are now after freeing Angela." 

"Angela tried to kill him, first." 

She shivered, recalling… "True. But he has to brainwash an entire engineering plant, in order to walk in and do this long, tedious process. That'll tap his energy to begin with. He can't kill the employees, or the angels will riot against him. I honestly don't know how he's going to pull it off. It'll be interesting to hear how it went when he returns. But I say he's lucky if he just manages to free one," she absently chewed on a nail. "It'd take at least a year to free all the angels from there, and that's not taking into consideration how we'll dance around the city's occupants when they realize that their energy source is being taken from them." 

Her words took the edge off his panic. He looked at the raw dirt that he'd been trying to cultivate, and sighed. "So you're saying I have time for a nap?" 

She exhaled in a soft laugh. "Yes." 

The doors of the main chamber whooshed open. They both startled, and turned to see that Knives had returned. He stood in the entrance, silhouetted black against the desert sun. Tense. Foreboding. Something was draped in his arms. An angel. 

"Knives!" Meryl breathed. "You did it? How did it go? Is she okay?" 

"Keh," was the only response she got. Knives didn't look at her. Didn't look at either of them. Just strode right by, his jaw tight, his gait stiff, his angry icy gaze fixed ahead... The angel was curled against his chest, her jet black hair in wild disarray, hanging over his forearm… She was unconscious, brow knotted in residual pain, her limp form wrapped in a blanket... 

They watched silently as he went down to the lower chambers, to no doubt hook her up with one of her sisters for healing. Vash felt his anxiety return. Two days. Knives had just taken two days. Every angel that was freed in January represented over 29,000 humans that had depended on her for survival. 29,000 that needed placement NOW. 

"Dammit…" He slammed his fingers back into the dirt and closed his eyes. The moist granules embedded in his cuticles, and gave him the sense of touch that he was looking for. He dumped every ounce of his being into visualizing, visualizing and actualizing. The seed beneath his palms. The nutrients around it. Trying to manipulate…and manipulate…and manipulate… 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Light, and static enveloped Vash's form all of a sudden. Meryl gasped and stumbled back, as some tremendous strain twisted his features, and made his body tremble. She could feel his concentration, his determination…his waning strength… 

And so did Angela. The first angel sister erupted into the area from a side garden, nearly tripping in her long gangly strides. She looked at Meryl, then at Vash with giant glistening orbs. 

"Knives just returned with an angel. I think it scared him. He's trying to acquire the ability to vegetate—" 

Meryl could feel Angela's thoughts process. Tumble. Decide. She made a distressed sound, and quickly pounced on Vash. Or that's at least what it seemed like. She knelt down behind him, and bowed her body over his back, resting her chin on his shoulder blade, and curling those thin white fingers around his wrists. The same concentration touched her own features, and Meryl realized that she wasn't trying to stop him. She was trying to learn vicariously through him, so that his efforts wouldn't be in vain. 

_So she can pick up where he leaves off, when he collapses._ Meryl bit her nails, torn between stopping them, and letting the process run its course. She remembered watching Knives manipulate the vines and trees when she first arrived here, and he hadn't strained one bit. Not at all. _Is it supposed to be this hard on them?_

Vash grunted. The crackling around him got worse, and Meryl gasped as a streak of obsidian shot through his blonde, spiky hair. Then another one, right below his ear. And another, along his brow. Meryl jumped up to her feet. "V…VASH!" 

Her shout didn't even register in his features, and it was then that the same thing happened to Angela. His angel sister whimpered as one of the few patches of white left on her own crown charcoalized. With a half-uttered curse, Meryl lunged at them both, but the wall of electricity around them hissed and spat at her, propelling her back several feet. She landed hard, shook herself, and screamed at the lower chambers. 

"KNIVES!!" 

She heard the footsteps almost as soon as she'd called his name. She twisted her body to see him burst into the chamber, only pausing a split second to assess the situation with wide, alarmed eyes. Then without explanation or inquiry, he crossed the remaining distance in three hurried steps, and in one quick move, grabbed Angela's shoulders and pried her off Vash's back, while simultaneously wedging his knee under Vash's gut, dislodging his brother from that spot. The wall of electricity fizzed out, and with a grunt, Knives flipped Vash on his back, and gently laid Angela down on hers. 

Both were breathing heavily, their faces grimacing in some great discomfort. Knives leaned over Angela systematically, studying her from head to toe, and then did the same with Vash. He paused when he saw the black streaks in his brothers' hair, and dropped one hand down to roll the onyx strands between his thumb and forefinger. 

Too caught up in the panic to guard his thoughts from her, Meryl heard the words he mouthed. And felt the concern that went with them. _Okay... He's okay..._ Knives made a fist and punched the ground next to Vash's head. _But if I hadn't been here..._

Milly came running in then, and Knives looked up. "You. Take my sister to be healed." 

Seeing Angela half-aware, laying on the ground like that, Milly needed no further encouragement. Her expression roiling with worry, she bent down and picked the girl up in her arms, taking off at a steady jog towards the plant chambers. When she was gone, Knives turned back to Vash, just now giving into his anger. 

"Damn you," he breathed, beginning to shake. 

Vash was too miserable to even protest, cracking a red-shot eye open to see who it was, then closing it again, and turning his head weakly to the side. Meryl bit her tongue as Knives stood to his feet, and swore some more. 

"You IDIOT," the word was all but a roar. "You think you can strong-arm this kind of a process!?" 

Vash said nothing. 

"You stupid overgrown buffoon! After all these years and you're still implementing Neanderthal tactics. GAH!" He sliced at the air in an angry gesture, and clenched both hands into fists. "And to include a sister, who is already half-dead… Did you see her, Vash? Did you see what you did to her??" 

Vash winced, and shook his head. 

"It's almost all black now. Her hair. You nearly killed her!" 

Vash grimaced, and Meryl's eyes watered. Vash tried to utter something. Something that sounded like a 'didn't know…' 

"WHAT!?" 

Vash closed his mouth, so Meryl spoke for him. "He didn't know Angela had—" 

"Angela?" Knives looked like he was two seconds away from spitting fire. "Who gave her that name!?" 

Meryl went on, disregarding his temperament. "—Vash didn't know she'd jumped on him. Let alone that the learning of this technique might take his life!" 

Knives' face swung in her direction, his lips in a bloodless line, and his eyes as hard and cold and angry as when she'd decked him. Meryl gulped. Suddenly all his ferocity was on her, and she found herself tongue-tied. Well, almost. 

"Vash…f-freed an ang-g-gel, you know. Just took him one day. So don't judge his talents so harshly! He's a lot more capable than you give him credit for!" 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Vash heard Meryl's stammering words, as she tried to defend him. Always so righteous. Always crusading on his behalf. But Knives was going to crucify her, and she had nothing to do with this incident. Vash lifted a weak arm, and opened his eyes, calling her name. 

But she didn't hear him. Instead, she lifted her chin and boldly met Knives' glare with her usual fearless edge. "Besides, it's _your_ fault to begin with, you arrogant jerk! You have the information they need, but you're too proud to share it! If there's anyone here who could have prevented this incident, it's _you!_" 

Vash's jaw tightened, and he tried to lift himself up. Foolish, brave woman. One day, that tongue of hers was going to get her killed. "Meryl," he coughed in a raw, hoarse voice. "Later," was all he could manage. 

She didn't hear him, which was no surprise. At this point, Knives had squared off with her, his presence alone deafening out Vash's words. Vash braced himself to intervene, as weak as he was. 

But instead of a lecture, or a long string of invective, something else came out. Something that had nothing to do with what just happened. Knives pointed at Meryl with a long, rigid arm. 

"You. You're coming with me on the next raid." Heated. Condescending. The subject changed so fast, Meryl's face went from defiant to confused. 

"Huh?" 

"You're coming with me to liberate the angels." 

"Why?" 

He ignored her question, and walked past, tossing over his shoulder in taught, commanding words, "Be ready. We're leaving in two hours." 

Meryl gaped after his retreating form, and then stood angrily to her feet. "You should know by now, Knives, that you can't force my cooperation. If you don't have a good reason, then—" 

He waved her off, and kept walking. Which just made her mad. Vash wasn't sure what she did right then, but Knives's head bobbed forward, as though she'd just thrown a rock at it. He grunted, and spun around, his eyes on fire. 

"You…_dare…_!?" 

"After today," she seethed. "I think you'll agree that I'm more needed on this end of our project, than on your end." 

Vash moaned internally. _Meryl! You reckless fool! I'm in no position to defend you if you piss him off this time!_

Cold, calculated action. That's what the Knives he knew would have responded with. She was just a human to him, after all, and Vash was certainly no threat at the moment. But Knives surprised him utterly then by gracing her with furious reaction. He was letting her get to him. Which was…unprecedented. 

Knives marched back until he was practically nose to nose with Meryl. "You know nothing!" 

Cursing, Vash lifted himself up on his arms. "Knives… Don't touch her…" 

"In order to keep your fellow primates from interfering, I had to control their minds," Knives spat. "Seventeen of them. Hovering like mosquitoes around my sisters." 

Vash blinked hugely. _He's taking the time to explain things to her!?_ Her personal space too crowded, Meryl took a step back, but Knives just took another step forward. 

"So I sent them outside, but my control slipped when I started to free the angel." He wasn't yelling, but the tone of his voice carried all the impact of a foghorn. "So half way through, the engineers came scuttling in to see the most surreal sight of their insignificant, sheltered lives. Next thing I knew, we're surrounded by humans, but I couldn't stop what I'd started, or else I would have lost her completely…" 

Vash listened in a growing nervousness. He almost didn't want to hear how Knives got out of there unscathed. 

"You…" Meryl's voice hitched, and she pushed through it. "You…killed them?" 

Knives straightened, and threw his arms in a furious gesture. "I couldn't! I was busy _freeing my sister!_" 

Meryl put a hand to her chest, and deflated with relief. 

"Besides, all the other angels were watching," Knives finished, more quietly. "I can't save them from their naïve perception of humanity until I save them from their confinements." 

"So…what did…how did you…?" 

"Let's just say that the next time they see me, they probably won't stand idly by while I deplete them of their energy source. Humans are inherently stupid, but not _that_ stupid." 

"So you lied to them?" 

"Feh." 

"Can you…go at night?" 

"They work around the clock. It's the city's largest generator." 

Meryl paused, while Knives' boil simmered down to a lukewarm. Her next words were honest. No bite. "But…what can I do?" 

Knives narrowed his eyes, and tapped his temple. 

Meryl coughed. "C-control their minds?" 

"Don't act so ignorant. Or innocent, for that matter." His eyes crinkled in a sneer. "I don't consider myself that bad of a teacher." 

He said it in a way that suggested he was alluding to something that transpired between them earlier. Some prior conversation. Or argument. Vash listened carefully while Meryl fumed. 

"Whatever, Knives. I'm not about to help you speed up your process if you refuse to help us with ours. The slower you go, the better for us. For everyone." 

Knives' sneer straightened. "Better!? You consider additional strain on the remaining angels _better_?" 

"The way I see it, you could have a lot more help than just me, if you stopped being such an asshole and showed Vash how to vegetate." At his sputtering silence, she added, "Besides. Once there is habitable land set up for the residents of January, then we could take a whole crew and free all the city's angels within _one_ night. ONE. No additional strain on the angels. No additional lives lost." 

Before he could respond, she jabbed her finger in his chest. "You help us, we help you." 

Vash watched in amazement as Knives' expression shifted through several emotions. Belligerence. Denial. Grim acceptance. No one had that kind of control over him. No one. With anyone else, he would have disregarded them without a second thought. He would have killed them, without a second thought. But with Meryl… 

Vash's breath caught. His chest expanded with hope. He was witnessing with his very eyes the kind of influence Meryl said she had over him. Knives paid heed to her. What she said mattered to him. Her well-being mattered to him, or else he would have hurt her by now. 

And if that wasn't a good sign, then he didn't know what was. Perhaps he was changing, just like she said. "Sounds like," cough, hack, "A win/win…to me, brother." And then he added silently, _If you teach me how to vegetate, then I'll let her go with you._

Knives snorted, and sent back, _She'll do whatever the hell she wants, with or without your permission. Or have you already forgotten how I escaped in the first place?_

The interplay locked between the two of them, Meryl missed it. She shrugged, turned on her heel and began to walk off. "Think it over, Knives," she said wearily over her shoulder. "I'm going to go make sure Milly hooked Angela up right." 

The soft whisper of her footsteps faded out as she exited, leaving Vash alone with his brother. The two of them stared each other down, one exhausted but determined, with the other hiding his emotions behind a perfect reticent mask. After a long impasse, Knives came over and squatted down next to him. 

"I'm going to salvage the sick ones immediately, Vash… Regardless of how far you've progressed with the alternate topography." 

Vash gaped. His tone. It was almost conceding. Like they'd reached an agreement. He hissed at the sharp pains in his body, as Knives suddenly heaved him up on his feet, supporting his weight with his shoulder. Wordlessly, his brother marched them out of the ship into the hot desert. 

The dry air enveloped them immediately and sand pushed against their feet as they kicked through it, until Knives dumped Vash about thirty feet from the ship. The sand scalded the side of his face until he rolled around and lifted himself up on all fours, coughing. Fit over, Vash peered in wary exhaustion as Knives flattened his palms on the hot ground. "Put your hands on mine." 

Vash blinked, certain that something must be wrong with his hearing. "Are you going to--?" 

"Hurry up." 

As hard as it was to support himself on his knees, Vash tentatively did as told, putting his large, callused hands over the knuckles of his brother's. His voice was still hoarse, and choked with disbelief. "But I thought…I thought you needed a seed. Nourishment…" 

Expression set, Knives concentrated on the ground. "Moron. That's cheating. Now concentrate, and pay attention to what I do. This planet's indigenous vegetation is already resting in the soil that encases the water table. Just a few yards below the surface. You don't force it, Vash. That's why you almost died. You have to _ease_ it. Manipulate elements these solids, liquids and gases already have in the manner they would have you go. Like a coconut. There's always a soft spot out of the three, right? Separate, blend, erect rock formations for shade, rechannel the water passage, and stimulate it so that it flows…" 

Vash swallowed. Hard. Knives scowled at him. "Can you assimilate this?" 

Nod. 

"Okay. Then here we go…"

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**TWO YEARS LATER**

_Ugh… Tired…_

The guard's mouth stretched over a deep, face-splitting yawn. He rubbed his eyes roughly, and shook himself back to an alert state. Word had arrived yesterday morning that three neighboring towns had just been hit over the weekend. And if proximity was any indication, Little Chicago would be next. 

"I saw that." 

"What," he said, stifling another yawn as he looked over at the straw-haired, middle-aged secretary. "This?" 

"Mm." 

He collected wits, and battled his growing nerves with his usual flippant banter. "Standing in stationary parade rest, weighted down with more artillery than I know how to use, for six-hour shifts, twice a day for five months straight," he blinked the sleepy moisture from his eyes, "Lady, I'd be lying if I told you it was the most exciting job I've ever had." 

She shook her head and started filing a pile of papers on her desk. "Well, considering we're probably next on the list, and no one knows what these plant stealers even look like, they really _should_ rotate the most attentive guards in," she uttered under her breath. 

He bit his tongue. Everyone was already on edge. These plant stealers were the most elusive criminals Gunsmoke had ever encountered. No one knew exactly what they looked like. How they did it. Or how many there were. The only testament to their visit would be a sudden but _permanent_ loss of power, followed by empty bulbs. 

And to make things worse, it just kept happening. Little Chicago was one of 15 cities left that still lived on the plant-run generators. The mayor had organized an entire militia to protect their energy source. The rest of Gunsmoke's population had reverted back to primitive living by force, in these mysterious oases that had been popping up all over the place, complete with crops and mud-roofed housing. Hell. His cousin lived in one, but he preferred his electric razor, and 60-watt bulbs, thank you very much. Not to mention the modern, medicinal equipment that regulated his mother's murmuring heartbeat. 

He could have expounded on his worries, but preferred a less heavy topic. Things were tense enough already. He smirked. "You should consider yourself lucky that I've been stationed by your desk for so many days." 

She quirked a skeptical brow. "And why's that?" 

"Because," he winked and blew a kiss, "baby, the longer I stand here, the better you look." 

Her jaw dropped. Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Why _you_…" 

"Good afternoon," came a light, effeminate voice. 

They both jerked to attention as two desert blown strangers walked through the front door. The guard immediately palmed his pistol, his trained eyes taking in all. The man was tall, dressed in some strange desert jumpsuit. His hair was white blonde, and short, and the expression on his face, sophisticated, aloof... The guard frowned. _And arrogant…_. 

But the guard was immediately disarmed by the man's companion. He did a double take. _Heeeel-lo…_

She was attired in a classy crimson dress, with high boots and a short jacket. Full, black hair bounced just below the shoulders, flipped up at the ends in a stylish fashion. Silver earrings enhanced the sparkle of her colorful, heavily-lashed eyes as she greeted them. Pretty mouth, pretty teeth, lovely complexion... 

She caught him staring, blushed, and nodded politely. 

His practiced reticence cracked and he half-smiled in return, only to feel his blood run cold as the blonde man with her turned an icy glare his way. The guard looked down at his toes. _Territorial bastard… Though I can't really blame him, with a woman like that…_

"May I help you?" the secretary asked, the suspicion creeping into her voice. 

The woman replied courteously. "Yes. My coworker and I are nationally registered engineers, and we came to implement…" her voice trailed off as he noticed a beetle crawling along the floor. It was yellow and red, walking in little zig zags in front of him, flapping its wings in succession... 

It was quite possibly the most intriguing thing he'd ever seen in his entire life. It wasn't long before he quickly forgot all about the pretty woman and her strange companion, mesmerized by the fascinating insect that danced at his toes. And when the shouting voices alerted him hours later, declaring that the plant angels had been stolen, the guard wondered in shocked disbelief how it was possible. He'd been standing there all day long. 

And there hadn't had a single visitor… 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

"Are they all engaged in healing?" 

"Mm." 

"Buckled down?" 

"Mm." 

"Are any distraught?" 

"Bejya's c-c-calming…them…" Knives looked back in time to see Meryl sway dizzily and fall forward. He swore, and the vehicle swerved as his arm shot out to keep her from landing on her face in the driver's cab. She crumpled in the seat next to him, her head flopping against his thigh. 

Her name caught in his throat. He vicariously steered while dividing his attention between the road ahead and her fluttering eyelids. Strands of her hair fluffed out with each breath, and he exhaled relief. 

_She's breathing…_

He went to shake her alert, but his hand just hovered inches over her shoulder in indecision. He'd been so preoccupied with his sisters that he hadn't even thought about how Meryl was doing. But in hindsight…damn. It's a miracle she lasted _this_ long. 

It had been the biggest raid since January. There were 168 angels in the cargo section of the desert crawler behind him, 42 of which were freed from their prisons, another 42 having performed the liberation, and a matching 84 more to heal them all on the way back to Eden. 

And where there were a plethora of angels, there were a plethora of humans. Who knows how many minds the woman had to control as the minutes ticked on. The secretary and guard were easy, but they had an entire hundred-man militia inside the cursed place, around the bulbs. And that didn't include all the civilians who noticed the power outage, and decided to run straight to the electric company to inquire… 

Knives wasn't even sure _he_ could have fared much better. 

_So…tired…_ he heard her fading thought echo up to his mind. He felt her struggle to sit up, and then his hand did clamp down on her shoulder. 

_Rest,_ he sent back firmly. _Recuperate._

She didn't even fight him. The woman lay back down, pillowing her head half-way in his lap, and was out. He stiffened immediately at the contact. He didn't mean for her to lay on him, for crying out loud. Red-faced, Knives blinked down at her, and mumbled under his breath. 

"You are far too comfortable with me, woman." 

No response, except for a light snore. He rolled his eyes, and looked back at the road. Then looked back at her. The road. Her. Her hair covered her face like a veil, and she was inhaling it, so he awkwardly reached a gloved hand down and after a couple efforts, succeeded in tucking the obsidian locks behind her ear. 

Didn't want her to gag on her own hair and cough all over him. 

But his eyes lingered longer than he meant them to, distracted by her face, her unguarded nearness, her warmth… It had been two years. Two years of working together almost every day. It hadn't been all that bad, really. They'd become quite the well-oiled machine on these raids. Granted, they still fought on occasion, but a perverse side of him delighted in those moments. No one could make her angry quite like he could. 

He felt his expression relax. Her hair really did suit her better when it was long…how it pleasantly framed her cheeks, and seemed to flop around when she laughed. He went to raise his free hand on the steering wheel, but it disobeyed him completely and rested tentatively on her shoulder blade. 

Knives cursed his abrupt awkwardness, and then quieted. Vash wasn't around, and she wasn't awake. Neither would startle and gawk at him like he'd crossed another milestone…like they did every time he smiled, or engaged in trivial conversation, or tried a new concoction of something the Amazon had made… _Ridiculous fools. Always acting like I'm an emotionally void machine…_

Long fingers splayed across her back. Screw it. He left his hand there. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Vash rolled on his back, his lungs billowing with gigantic breaths while limbs stretched to the four corners of the globe. He had just erected fourteen mud homes in succession and was now sweating like a pig. He deserved a rest. 

"Brother Vash, look out!" 

His ears heard Angela's warning, but his body ignored it. Too late, a tree sprouted beneath him, and wedged right in his spine. He yipped as it launched him up in the air. Limbs flailing spastically for purchase, he rolled off it, only to meet with another sprouting palm tree, followed by a eucalyptus, a fir… 

It was a good beating. A decent beating. Might have been impressive to watch, had he not been the pinball in this arcade game from hell. After a painful ralley, he was finally ejected out of the agricultural mosh pit in a dizzying spin. The air friction ripped at his clothes but did nothing to slow his descent, and he ultimately came crashing down… 

Or he would have come crashing down, had Milly not caught him. He yelped as his arm flopped around her neck, and his knees and back draped over her forearms. When his head stopped spinning he managed to look up at her face. 

Hair pulled back in a pony tail, eyes disappearing in a pleasant smile, face smudged with a little dirt… "Hello, Mr. Vash." 

He winced at a bruised rib, and smiled back. "Hello Milly." 

"That was quite a ride." 

"Yeah." 

She gently dropped his legs and steadied him on his feet. Truly, the woman was too strong for her own good. Vash caught Angela's eye, who was kneeling on the ground with her fingers imbedded, alongside six other angels in various attires and states of disarray. And she was giggling. They were _all_ giggling. A trait they'd picked up from watching how humans expressed themselves. 

Ah, the joys of having 1242 little sisters. Why couldn't they ever pick on Knives? 

"Very funny." 

More giggling. 

Milly laughed lightly with them and started to unfold the blueprint. He shook his head, pointed at Angela in mock warning, and turned his attention to his friend. "Alright. So where are we at now, Miss Milly?" 

Milly traced her finger along her father's architectural layout of the oasis plans. It would have to accommodate all of Little Chicago's population. "Water table has been tapped into, small lake formed, two miles of surrounding foliage. Sand has been replaced with the indigenous soil underground. And this site is already within the mountain range, so the moisture extracted from the uninhabited regions of Gunsmoke should recycle well in this valley…" 

"What's left?" Vash asked, feeling tired just hearing it all. 

"68 mud homes adjacent to—" 

A cacophony of high-pitched shouting interrupted her. Vash swore, recognizing the sound. It didn't matter how many times he'd heard it. The noise of fighting angels always disturbed him deeply. 

Milly shaded her eyes from the sun and squinted through the crops. "Zoe and Yaya?" 

Vash listened. "No." He could see them. A group of seven angels getting in the faces of four of their sisters. The distinguished blotchiness of their black and white hair patterns was finally recognizable. "No. It's—" 

"Pepper and Lela?" 

"Un-uh." 

"Rasta and Rosh?" 

"Minmae and Julie," he uttered sadly. "And their collective posses. I think it's…I think they're fighting over who gets to do the apple trees." One shoved the other. A tree was uprooted out of anger, and tossed. 

Vash and Milly sprung into a brisk jog to intervene, but Angela jumped up, and waved them back. 

"I got it this time," she said helpfully, and dutifully raced over to stop the fight between her sisters. Vash blew his breath out in a long exhale and ran his hands through his hair. He felt Milly's hand on his shoulder, and clasped his fingers over hers. 

"They're getting worse and worse…" he said, feeling anything but relieved as Angela succeeded in breaking them apart. 

Milly shook him reassuringly. "You can't have over 1200 people working in such close proximity on the same project for so long without _some_ bickering, Mr. Vash." 

"I know," he said quietly. "But it's getting difficult to hide their less-than-civilized behavior from Knives, and…" He didn't finish. It was hard to pinpoint it, really. Just a gut feeling. A vibe. That something bad would result if Knives found out his angel sisters weren't perfect. 

Every sin of Knives' life...every transgression was masked by a false righteousness, hinging on his utter conviction that his plant sisters were godly beings. Able to co-exist in harmony, where humans could not. Able to co-exist with nature, where humans could not. A superior species, unfettered by the darker natures that ailed mankind. 

If he knew the truth... That plants were just as _human_ as the humans were, then there would be no lie under heaven or hell that he could tell himself that would justify the deliberate murder of millions and millions of innocent lives. 

He'd finally realize that the 'greater good' he bought into was just a fallacy. 

Which would make him nothing more than a murderer. 

Vash shuddered. _Knives. You're not ready for that..._

Milly nudged him. "Mr. Vash?" 

"Hm?" 

She looked sympathetically at him as though to ask, 'are you okay?' He smiled. Falsely, albeit, but she knew him well enough by now to recognize when to not press an issue. The woman was more in tune than she let on. 

"We're almost done. Just fourteen more locations to liberate. I'll ask daddy to start working on a separate community for the angels, so they don't all have to live under one roof. Maybe it'll help lessen the sibling rivalry, okay?" 

He nodded, appreciating the help. Two locations would be nice. 

The dispute resolved, Milly drew his attention back to the blueprint. "Now. We still need 68 mud homes adjacent to the ones you just erected. Twenty more 100-rowed crops of these items listed here…" she tapped at the map. "Daddy suggested barricading the western end with a row of cactuses, to seal in moisture and protect from winds—" 

An explosion sounded behind them, and they both looked to see two dozen angels growing corn stalks out of the ground like bubbles in boiling water. Perfect, even rows. Vash bit his bottom lip and shook his head. "Another day, at least…" he whispered. "Good thing Knives and Meryl are doing the raid tomorrow-" 

"Today," Milly corrected. 

Vash's gut dropped. "What?" 

"It was today they were going. As a matter of fact, they should be heading back right about now—" 

As though in answer, the low, thrumming hum of a desert crawler echoed through the trees. Vash turned to see the familiar vehicle amble up over a nearby sand dune, weighted down with what must have been nearly 200 bodies. 

He smacked his forehead, and swore. "Ah! Too soon!" Immense worry settling in, he left Milly in the dust and sprinted up to meet his brother, exasperated, pissed off, and panicked all at once. Knives stopped the crawler a foot from him, and Vash was bombarded with sand and the smell of oil and machinery. 

Knives took his time getting out, and upon noticing Vash's distress, he instantly looked smug. "Hello brother." 

"W-we're not ready!" 

He raised his brow in mock sympathy. "What? Not ready? That's so unlike you, Vash." 

"Knives, this is serious! Did you already deliver the map and instructions to the mayor?" 

"Left it in his mailbox." 

"Gah…" Vash ran his hands through his hair, adding this little hiccup to the myriad of other hiccups they'd had since this project began. Had things ever gone smoothly? Misread blueprints, mud homes sinking into the water table, irrigation ditches dug too shallow, crops where lakes were supposed to be, lakes where forests were supposed to be… 

Had he been human, he probably would have died of a heart attack by now. It was the first time in his life he coveted his brother's organizational skills. It's a good thing he worked alongside such a positive person. Milly had calmed his nerves more than once, just by being herself. But what could they possibly do about this situation? Angry humans might be showing up any minute, demanding their power back… They'd be caught, and bring forth all the calamities that Knives foretold. Desperate times called for desperate requests! 

"Can you…take them back?" 

Knives' smug reticence faltered, and his face scrunched in muted appall. "No." 

"Just a few—" 

"Don't be absurd." 

"But Meryl can—" 

"Do nothing. She overexerted herself this time." 

Suddenly, all his problems ceased to matter. "What? Is she okay? Is she alright?" 

Before Knives could answer, Vash raced around to the backside of the vehicle. 

"She's in the _front_, Vash," he said with more than a little irritation in his voice. 

Vash half turned, nearly stumbling, and swung open the cab. He calmed the moment he saw her, laying down across the cushioned seat with her head under the steering unit. Her legs were curled up, and her hands were resting lightly by her chin, hair blanketing her face... 

She was passed out, but in one piece. 

"She's on my team. I am responsible for my team," Knives said, an edge to his tone. "After all this time, do you really still believe that I would let harm befall her?" 

Vash didn't answer. There was something about the way she was laying there. Taking up the whole seat, like that. Something… _If she was laying _there_, and Knives was driving _here… 

"Anyhow, I anticipated your lack of planning. You need to pack up, now." 

Vash's jaw dropped the same time a grin tugged on the corners of his lips. He'd just caught Knives with his hands in the cookie jar. 

Knives frowned, instantly apprehensive. "You're smiling--" 

"You let her sleep on you." 

Knives' eyes widened. Face flushed. "I--" 

"Snuggled up next to your leg…" 

"She--" 

"Head in your lap…" 

"It's not—!" 

"All the way here! Ha!" 

Knives' face shifted through several furious and awkward expressions. Vash's grin broadened. Two years ago, he would have just tossed an unconscious Meryl in the back. But now… He guarded his thoughts, though his outward gloating belied his sentiments. _Well, I'll be darned. He's fond of her. She may revolutionize Knives' view of humanity yet…_ He was still smiling when Knives lunged forward and fisted his collar, lifting him up off the ground. 

"_This_ is why you're always two steps behind, Vash! You get distracted from your work with trivialities!" 

"Well," he coughed. "Can't argue…with that." Vash didn't struggle, letting the outburst run its course. Hell. To save Knives. Rem had charged him with it. He had actively sought it. For nearly a century and a half, 1680 months, 33,600 days it had been his number one goal. Honestly. How could he _not_ be ecstatic at these little changes in his brother's impermeable behavior? 

Knives dropped him, and Vash dutifully composed himself, rubbing his neck. _Well, back to the issue at hand before Knives blows a hole in my oasis just to prove he's still an ass…_ "We need another day, Knives. Do you think you can—?" 

"The only thing I'm going to do is leave. With my sisters." 

"It won't be ready!" 

"It is good enough," he replied sharply. Earlier offense forgotten, Knives folded his arms and narrowed his eyes back at the way they'd come. The barest hint of distress weighed down his features and solemnized his voice. "Little Chicago had organized a militia to stop us, Vash. They were there when we showed up, which is why Meryl is currently useless. And their transport is bound to ambulate across the desert more rapidly than my crawler. Oh. And did I mention our tracks? How they're still visible? The wind storm isn't due to arrive for a few more hours…" 

Vash rubbed his temples, and looked over his shoulder at Milly, who was managing the angels as they created another acre of crops. "We'll…we'll have to return to finish, or the citizens of Little Chicago will fight over the resources. The shelters." 

Knives snorted. "They do that anyways. Even when you _over_-fortify their oases." 

Vash grimaced. It was true. Especially with the larger populations. There always seemed to be a smattering of selfish, cold-hearted men who tried to control those around them by taking more than they needed. Causing contentions. Causing segregation. But where Vash saw it as a few sour grapes in every bushel, Knives was only further cemented in his beliefs that the bestial, territorial, power-hungry nature of a few selfish brutes was somehow the dominating trait of an entire species. 

And there was no talking him out of it. Hell. Every time mankind acted less than perfect, Vash got another lecture. '_Do you see now, Vash? Do you see how self-destructive they are? Our people do not quarrel. They do not work against each other.'_

What Knives didn't know, is that the angels _did_ quarrel. And over petty things. Had he shown up just minutes earlier, he would have witnessed such a dispute. But Vash kept tight-lipped about those incidents like he always did. 

Knives was helping, now. So long as he was helping, let him believe what he would… 

"Milly!" he waved her over. She blinked twice, handed Angela the blueprint, and crossed the distance between them in a brisk jog. 

"Yes, Mr. Vash?" 

"We…we have to leave. A militia is on its way…" 

Knives nudged him, his icy eyes locked on the way they'd come. "Vash." 

"Mm?" 

"I was wrong. They're not on their way." 

Relief. Big, fat re— 

"They're here." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Shouting. Angry, vulgar shouting. The noise seeped into her consciousness and quickened her lethargic heartbeat into a galloping patter. Meryl jolted awake, her gut in her throat. Her limbs flailed aimlessly, ambling her body out of the driver's cab before her vision could even focus, and she found herself dumped in a clumsy heap outside the vehicle. 

She stood covered in sand, only to fall back against the door hinge as taught anxieties slammed into her awareness, nearly knocking her off her feet. She grimaced and squinted through the blaring sun to see the backs of Vash and Knives, both standing in a posture that was both rigid and threatening, legs stanced apart, hands just inches away from their heat. They were facing off with…with a thin black line along the top of the nearest dune. 

Her sight focused, and her breath caught. _The militia!_ There must have been all hundred of them there. Armed men, some scowling, others bewildered, overlooking the oasis. They were on racers, and desert squats, and pieced together motorcycles. She was too horrified to even swear. Quick, parental eyes scanned the place to see the oasis angels staggered throughout the nearby crop, staring with their enormous, glossy black orbs at these men who had come to take them back. 

"Meryl…" 

It was Bejya. The angel guardian was coming out after her, and Meryl motioned her back. "Stay inside the crawler, Bejya. And keep the angels in there with you." 

"But Vash…Knives…" 

"If anyone is in danger here, it's those men!" She waited until she heard Bejya scramble back into the body of the large transport, and then moved slowly towards them. Knives and Vash hadn't drawn their guns yet, but their fingers twitched at their sides, on the ready. Sentinels. Guardians. 

She knew Vash wouldn't kill anyone, but Knives on the other hand… 

_Get your ass back in that machine!_

Knives' mental shout nearly made her legs buckle. He hadn't turned around, but then he didn't need to. His hair was standing on end, and she felt his psychological probes all over her body. But it didn't stop her. With every step closer, Knives' shoulders bunched more, and by the time she reached him, the veins in his neck were protruding with rabid reaction. 

"Don't kill them," she pled in a hissed whisper, eyeing dreadfully the crude weapons and determined faces of the militia. 

Knives' voice was low, his profile cold and unyielding. "I'll kill every last one of them without pause or remorse if they so much as scratch any one of you." 

"Get back in the car, Meryl," Vash snapped, echoing his brother's command. "If we're worrying about you getting hit in the crossfire, then it'll cost us our aim." 

"Crossfire? What crossfire? You're already consigning this to a showdown?" 

"No." Knives said coolly. "But they are." 

So intent were they on their 'visitors' and each other, that all three somehow missed Milly until she'd stomped right by them, waving her hands in the air. 

"Hey there, everyone!" 

Vash coughed, Knives swore, and Meryl went to go after her, but Knives collared her back. "Don't even think about it," he growled, his grip unrelenting. 

Vash voiced Meryl's panic. "Milly! What are you—" 

"It's okay, Mr. Vash," she waved them back, turning to smile at him over her shoulder. "I'm just going to talk to them."

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"T-talk to them!?" 

Smile. Nod. "I'm sure they're nice people. Bet they'd prefer a good conversation all day long over fighting." 

Knives exhaled in stunned disgust. "Fool…" 

"Knives, let me go," Meryl said, tugging against his hand on her shoulder. He ignored her with practiced perfection. 

Vash took a step to retrieve Milly, but looked torn between defending her and retrieving her. He could hardly do both with so many weapons pointed at them. Both he and Knives were scanning the crowd left to right with frantic, all-observing eyes. 

Meryl held her breath as Milly approached the men with a smile on her face and her hands in the air. The seconds ticked on as she trudged up the dune, her ponytail flopping about her shoulders with girlish exuberance. She succeeded in getting within yards of them, and Meryl prayed. 

_Please don't hurt her, please don't hurt her, please don't hurt her…_

She finally stopped, waved again and bowed politely. Then her hands began to move expressively as she spoke. 

"What's she saying?" Vash asked. 

Knives shook his head, and Meryl fared no better. The woman was out of earshot. The three watched in nervous observation as Milly proceeded to do things her way. By being polite. Sincere. Friendly. A couple guns lowered, while wary eyes studied her behind suspicious expressions. 

What was a lone woman doing facing off with a horde of angry men, anyways? 

"I…I think they're listening to her," Meryl said in hopeful awe. "I think she's disarming them." Knives' grip lessened as intermittent comments from the crowd interspersed Milly's speech…something noted by feint echoes of their voices on the wind, and communicative gestures. 

Vash's agitation proved too much for him. "I'm going up there with her." 

"No!" Meryl shouted. "She's on a razor's edge, Vash. If those men so much as _see you move_…" Sweat was beading down his face, and Meryl's own hands were trembling. _Dammit, Milly. I hope you know what you're doing…_

Knives flinched, as all heads swiveled in the direction of the oasis. Milly was gesturing there. The angels staggered in the fields shifted nervously, eyeing each other and the militia with a cocktail of fearful curiosity. 

The tension increased, and Knives' fingers dug into Meryl's shoulder reflexively, but Meryl reached up and grabbed his wrist. "Stay, boy." 

Then Milly surprised them all again, by turning around as though nothing were out of the ordinary, cupped her hands to her mouth and called out to the desert crawler behind them. 

"Bejya!!" she shouted. "Bejya! Can you come here a sec?" 

Vash gasped, and Knives hissed. A mostly white-haired angel ambled out of the vehicle in a blue jumpsuit, blinking large black eyes up at her human friend. Milly smiled and motioned for her to approach. 

"Can you bring one of them here?" Milly asked, her voice cutting through the wind. "One of the angels from Little Chicago?" 

"Oh hell no," Knives seethed, little bursts of feathers erupting from his angel arm. 

Meryl's breath caught, and she quickly grabbed his hand in both of hers. If Knives transformed before their eyes, good heavens. It would be all over. "Wait! Just wait…" she whispered, having nothing to go on but a gut feeling that they just might be better off trusting her comrade, as absurd as the situation was. He was trembling, and she tugged on his hand until he looked at her. "Milly would never put any one of them in danger." 

Knives snarled, and shook his head warningly at Bejya. Then Bejya looked at Meryl, who countered his opposition with a nod. The angel disappeared back into the vehicle and emerged a few moments later hoisting up one of her newly liberated sisters. 

Vash grunted, and Knives growled. To let the angels walk right into enemy hands…it went against every fiber of their protective nature. And it took Meryl every ounce of faith she had to keep from having the same reaction. "Remember, most of these men had no idea a sentient being was inside those bulbs!" She said, trying to convince herself as much as anyone. "Maybe they'll see things differently…" 

"It's okay!" Milly called out. "They won't hurt you!" 

Bejya smiled tentatively and ambled forward, helping her sister along. The new angel was clothed in a hastily thrown blanket, the which was tugged and whipped by the wind. She looked pitiful. Helpless. But maybe that's what Milly was going for. 

Who knew? 

"Dammit, that's far enough, Bejya!" Knives called out when they'd come within several yards of Milly, and then under his breath. "This is madness. Your friend has lost her mind!" He was unbelievably tense, radiating so much stress and animosity, that Meryl's already weakened state was given to a bout of dizziness. 

"Knives," she half turned and leaned on him. Half for support, and half to try and calm him. "They'll feed off your aggression before they'll see Milly as a threat. You need to calm down." 

He graced her with nothing more than a highly irritated glance, and then fixed his attention right back up on that hill, no doubt singling out the first people he'd off if something went wrong. Bejya came to a limping stop with her sister wearily leaning against her. Milly looked so calm, Meryl began to wonder if she really had lost it. The conversation continued, and as it did, Vash began to relax. But not Knives. 

Never Knives. 

More weapons lowered. On cue from Milly, Bejya said a few stammering words, and lifted her free hand up to hold out the long obsidian locks of her sister's charcoalized hair. The liberated angel raised her head and looked at the militia of the city she'd helped generate. 

_Does she recognize any of them?_ Meryl wondered. And more importantly. _Do any of them recognize her?_

So much could have gone wrong. The men could have been frightened by the angel's inhuman features; the teeth that poked horizontally from the corners of their lips, the lashless, oil-black eyes, or tall awkward frame… They could have lashed out in fear. They could have convinced themselves the angels deserved to be enslaved. Like animals. They could have sought to kill them, or steal them back. 

They could have, could have could have… 

But they didn't. 

Meryl wasn't sure how she did it. Had she known the exact words Milly used, she wouldn't have been able to duplicate it. But what must have been close to two hours later…120 minutes of Knives' tension stretched to the point of snapping… 

A hundred men dropped their weapons, and returned the way they'd come. 

"I…I don't believe it," Vash uttered as the line of bodies atop the dune slowly, some regretfully, disappeared off the opposite side. "Did she…? Did they just…?" 

"I…think so," Meryl dared to whisper, trying to quell the rising cheer. Jumping up and hollering with glee would have earned her more disdain from Knives today than she felt like dealing with. "They left. They left of their own merits," ah what the hell. She turned and jabbed her finger in Knives' chest. "With_out_ the benefit of being strong-armed nor brainwashed, thank you very much!" 

Knives blinked down at her, and it took a moment for his shocked expression to weigh back down into his usual detached annoyance. When it did, he hmph'd and stormed off without further comment. 

Vash laughed in shocked relief, tossing one arm companionably around Meryl's shoulders. She hugged him back. A reverent silence fell as they both looked at the remarkable woman who had just disarmed a hundred man army without lifting a single finger. Vash shook his head in admiration. "She's somethin' else, that Milly." 

And Milly did what she always did from up on that dune, having single-handedly overcome one of the greatest obstacles they'd faced yet. 

She smiled. And waved. 

A stray but elated tear rolled down Meryl's cheek, and she waved enthusiastically back, more proud of Milly than she'd ever been. "Yeah, she is. She really is." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

They stayed the extra day, and finished up the oasis without further incident. Some of the angels remained nostalgic, seeing so many humans at once, and Vash quickly promised them that when the last angel was freed, they could start tracking down old friendly faces from the towns they'd protected. 

Milly went back to work systematically as though she'd done nothing out of the ordinary. But it was the general consensus - by everyone but Knives, naturally - that she was the unquestioned forerunner in the hero contest. 

The sandstorm came, but by the time it hit the oasis was fortified enough to sustain the beating. Meryl suggested that they take the crew of angels from Little Chicago and head back to Eden, but Knives rejected the idea right away. He wasn't about to leave any of the flock, fearing the men would return. 

So…they camped out for a day, watching Vash's team finish their work. Many of the angels stayed inside the vehicle to tie up the healing, while Knives went around inspecting the health of both crews, and correcting mistakes. Meryl had no place in oasis-building, and merely sat under the shade of a palm tree in the moist soil, while sipping the milk out of a coconut. 

_Ah. Finally…_

It was a moment's peace. A breather. The first in a long, long time. Since they'd started this project, two years ago, she'd barely had time to think about herself. Let alone, fret over her feelings for a certain someone… 

Vash was hopping around, patting backs and grinning encouragement at his team, dropping on all fours occasionally to add another bush, or citrus tree. Not exactly organized, but as charismatic as ever. She grew wistful, seeing the youthful glint in his eye, and his constant upbeat energy. Still so adorable. His age would never taint his youthful spirit. 

The ponderings came without permission, and with little warning. It had been so long, after all. She and Vash had never had "that" conversation, now that she thought about it…the one she'd archived for later. Swallowed up in her work of liberating the angels, it suddenly didn't seem as important. Looking back, she considered that Vash really did love her. Hell. She felt it radiate off him every time he saw her. The way his face lit up. The bounce in his step. His irrational, and sometimes tedious concern over her well-being. 

It was undeniable. 

Meryl sighed ruefully. When did it happen, exactly? Somewhere along the line, she'd subconsciously become secure with his feelings for her... 

Even though there were never any awkward moments of stammering speech between them, no lingering touches, no misinterpreted smiles… While she might very well be the most important girl to him on the planet, there was still a big difference between love and being _in_ love. 

_Am I okay with that?_ she wondered. _Am I still in love with you?_

It's not like she'd had much time to dwell on it, thanks to his brother. As a matter of fact, Knives was pretty much the sole reason why she was coping well at all. The guy was so high maintenance, he dominated most of her thoughts and actions these past couple years. 

"High maintenance, eh?" Came the husky overworked voice. Meryl threw up mental guards a second too late, and turned to scowl at Knives as he came up from behind and leaned against _her_ tree. He had unzipped the top of his ornate, heavily-buckled jacket because of the heat, no doubt, leaving it to hang low about his waist. His muscled biceps and forearms glistened with sweat, his short spiky hair sagged with it, and his black undershirt was damp with it. It wasn't until he looked down and smirked that she realized she'd been staring. Meryl forced herself to look away with a mental thwap. He'd made a comment, hadn't he? 

"Very," she said. 

"You were broadcasting." 

"And you were being nosy." 

"Hm." After a moment, he plunked down next to her, brushing shoulders, with his legs drawn up and his elbows resting on his knees. Their relationship had evolved to the point where it was no longer taboo to invade each other's personal space, which left her ill-prepared for the abrupt effect his proximity caused this time around. Maybe it's because she'd been so relaxed for once. Regardless… 

The guy really was a hunk. 

A moment's silence passed, and she felt Knives shift from mildly amused to…_content?_ She had to do a double take. _Good heavens, is he actually happy?_

His youthful face relaxed as he watched the angels. The hard edge to his ice blue eyes softened. He looked pleased. And when he wasn't trying to be threatening, Meryl found herself mesmerized by his features. 

"What are you thinking?" she couldn't help but to ask. She half expected him to put up his barriers. But he didn't. 

"Look at them, Meryl. Look at how well they work together, in sync. In harmony. Nourishing this planet instead of depleting it. It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" 

Another indirect jab at mankind, but this time Meryl didn't mind. Granted, Vash had told her about the fights between angels. About the careless over-plucking of crops and flowers. But she wasn't about to burst Knives' bubble. It wasn't often when he seemed content. "They are amazing to watch," she agreed. 

He pondered silently. One corner of his mouth lifted just a smidgen as wistful eyes observed the fruits of all his labors. All his dreams. "They're happy with their freedom. I knew they would be." 

"Of course they're happy," Meryl replied softly. "I have no regrets." 

"Hn." 

She closed her eyes as one of the angels began to hum. Ah, the music. That had to be one of her favorite parts in all this. The plant angels weren't quick with speech, but song seemed to be a natural inclination. As natural as growing things with their bare hands. 

Chords quickly evolved as voices joined in, and a single, ethereal soprano danced over the altos below her, followed by a soft percussion created by rhythmic stomping and hands slapping thighs. 

Meryl leaned her head back until it rested against the tree, absorbing it all. "Their music is so powerful. So beautiful. I don't know how anyone could not be mesmerized by it." 

"It's the alternative outlet to being a living battery," Knives commented. "And the discoveries they've made in each others' company have been very…productive." 

Meryl had to stifle a chuckle. Honestly. Sometimes he gloated a little too much. "Just like a family should be," she said. Paused, and then bumped his arm with her shoulder. Credit was also due elsewhere this day, and just maybe he was receptive enough to acknowledge mankind's better nature, now. Meryl probably shouldn't have gotten her hopes up so high, but she couldn't help it. 

_He's got to open his mind now…_

"When those men left today, after hearing Milly's words, part of me wondered if we've been going about this the hard way all along. Perhaps we could have negotiated from the beginning, instead of relying on cloak and dagger—" 

"Keh. Those men left because they were afraid of us," he frowned, utterly convinced. "Don't fool yourself." 

Meryl sighed heavily. _Same as always. Why did I think he'd react differently?_ The conversation took a turn like it always did when humanity was brought up. "Afraid? Of what? All two of you?" 

"They were afraid of what they didn't know. Plant angels are capable of awesome power." 

"Ugh…" She rubbed her brow, a well of disappointment swallowing her hopes. "Why can't you consider that they might have left because they felt compassion? Because they couldn't bring themselves to sticking that poor angel back inside a cage?" 

"You put too much faith in them." 

"And you put too little!" She hung her head, frustration bringing a sting to her eyes, and constricting her throat. This had been the perfect opportunity. The perfect example of mankind's better nature. It had been a chance for him to open up his way of thinking, but the bullheaded jerk had still managed to contrive some twisted reason for it. "Dammit, Knives..." Her voice caught, and she looked away. A set of tears rolled down her cheeks, startling her and embarrassing her. She turned further so he couldn't see. Good heavens, he'd made her cry this time. 

An edgy silence passed between them. She waited for him to get up and walk away like he usually did when she stopped arguing. But instead, she felt a small nudge against her shoulders and thighs as he leaned against her. 

"Meryl…" his voice was almost a whisper, close to her ear, causing the hairs on her arms to raise. "You… Your contribution here won't go unrewarded." 

Her heart jumped in her throat and she froze, _Is he…is he trying to console me?_

"When…" pause, breathe, he tried again. "When humanity meets its inevitable fate, I'll…I'll make sure you're not with them." 

The cool air hit Meryl's eyes as they widened, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. He continued, the intensity of his words seeping into her skin. 

"You can stay. With us." 

Meryl sniffled and gawked at him. It was a twisted compliment, but a compliment nonetheless. He sure as hell wouldn't have said anything like that even a month ago. Perhaps he was making progress after all. His brow was knotted in the center. Mouth set in a serious line. He was so sincere, it was hard to give him the response he had coming. 

But such ridiculous words called for nothing less than sarcasm. He couldn't damn her whole race without getting some backlash. She wiped the wetness off her cheeks with the back of her hand, irritated, flattered, and blushing all at once. "You really mean it? You'd let me, a measly human stay with you? Well, how generous. What would I be? Your pet?" 

His sincere expression turned sour. He looked away. Another awkward silence passed. Meryl felt him start to get up, but she grabbed his sleeve and he grunted as she forcefully yanked him back on his rump. "You're not leaving until I can enjoy your sisters' music again." 

"Pardon?" 

"I can't even enjoy the songs right now because I'm so frustrated with you. So just sit, chat with me about something else until we're both as happy as we were a second ago. No use in ruining a tranquil setting with a bad mood. Alright?" She started to sip on her coconut milk again through a straw, waiting… 

His heavy sigh let her know he was going to oblige. At least for a while. 

"You're overly emotional today. You never cry." 

She wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. "Subject change, please." 

Pause. He tugged on a blade of grass until it snapped. "So… Still pining after my brother?" 

Meryl choked, spraying her drink all over the ground. A coughing fit followed. Meryl fought for air as her lungs tried to force the liquid out of her wind pipe. A tentative hand rested on her back until it subsided. She wanted to laugh, cry and strangle him all at once. 

She blinked the moisture from her eyes and glared up at him. He had the audacity to look perplexed. "You asked for a subject change—" 

"That's like me asking you what your plans are for procreation, you moron!" 

"How's that?" 

"One you, 1500 females?" 

He quirked a brow. 

Meryl huffed. "Awkward!" 

"I'm perfectly fine discussing such things with you." 

She grimaced in unease. She'd been trying to make a point that he shouldn't ask such personal questions, of all things. She didn't want to hear the mechanics of how he was going to single-handedly impregnate fifteen hundred plant angels. "You're missing my point." 

He shrugged, and absently traced his finger in the dirt. "Then what do you suggest we talk about?" 

She considered him. Then she considered the angels. Meryl threw her reservations to the wind. Come to think of it, she really was curious. "What _are _you going to do in order to proliferate your species? I mean…you haven't mentioned anything, and we're so close to finishing, and…well?" 

His eyes crinkled with a half smirk, and he looked at her knowingly. "Thought so." She figured he might make a snide comment about her vested interest in Vash, but he refrained. Knives went back to tracing circles in the dirt. "Haven't you found it peculiar, that in all this time of liberating the plant angels, not once have we had an incident of attraction?" 

She thought back. The angels had been known to flirt with Milly's father here and there, which was too funny for words. Made the old gentleman's day, naturally. But had she ever seen a single one of them come onto Vash? Knives? Meryl tried to remember. "Not once?" 

He shook his head. 

Meryl's jaw dropped. "Are you…are you sure? I mean, the angels are beautiful. Breathtaking. I've been jealous of their tall, slender physiques more than once. And…" she looked down shyly, "And you and Vash aren't exactly ugly. I can't imagine you not being…drawn to each other…" 

She could feel his eyes on her then, but was far too embarrassed to meet them. _It's perfectly objective to comment on his attractiveness. Given the conversation, it was a rational, necessary remark… So stop blushing, Meryl._ Man, his shoulder was warm. 

"There's no chemistry," he said resolutely. "Not that I see, and not that I feel." He looked pensive for a moment. "Our bodies can merge into one being. I could absorb a dozen of the angels into my body, and inherit their power. Something I doubt Vash ever realized. But as far as procreating, as traditionally defined…" he shook his head. "We'll probably have to rely on engineering." 

"And…and you're not worried about this?" 

He shrugged again. "I'm worried about freeing them, and protecting them. The rest will concern me when it becomes an issue." 

There was something so wrong about this. Meryl tried to pinpoint it. "I just can't fathom a dual-gendered species that's not compatible with itself," she mused. 

Knives twirled his finger in a weed, and tugged. He seemed reluctant, but spoke anyways. "Plant angels _aren't_ a dual-gendered species, Meryl." 

She looked at him like he was crazy, but he held her gaze. He was serious. Her face scrunched in question. She thought about the angels. She thought about Knives. And then it hit her. The plant angels were female. Vash and Knives and Tessla – God rest her soul – were genetic anomalies. Mutants, hybrids, _something_ different. She felt she was on a thread to some great insight, and suddenly wondered about Knives' maternal parent. 

Meryl leaned forward until he looked her in the eyes. "Knives. In all this time, have you come across your birth mother? You could ask her how she became…impregnated…with you and Vash, and maybe learn how to duplicate it…" 

A pained look flashed across his face, and he fell silent for several seconds. She felt his distress as clearly as she saw it, and nearly regretted asking. Finally, when the silence was almost more than she could bear, Knives looked up at some distant point on the horizon, his eyes narrowed to slivers. 

"No. I never found her." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

**TWO DAYS LATER**

"What do you mean he'll never change?" Vash said as he sat down on the edge of his bed, and started buckling up his shoes. "He's come a long ways, Meryl. You just don't see it because you're with him every day." 

Meryl leaned against the doorway with her arms folded. She looked at him dubiously. "I don't know…" 

Finishing with one foot, Vash switched to the other. "Trust me. He's changed. I think you have far more influence over him than you realize." 

"But he still preaches on about humanity's "inevitable fate" like it'll be the greatest thing in the universe. One would think that after all this time… That especially after what happened on that sand dune, he'd be a little less pig-headed." 

Vash smiled regretfully and nodded. "Unfortunately, I've come to realize that there is no greater force in this world than Knives' ability to deceive himself." He stood and walked towards the door. Meryl thought he meant to leave his room, but instead, he rested his hands on her shoulders, and bowed his head until their eyes were almost level. "But that doesn't mean that his _heart_ isn't changing." 

He looked so sure. So positive. So…_sneaky_? Meryl frowned. "You. You're hiding something from me, Mister." 

He took a step back in mock offense with a hand to his chest. "Me?" 

She placed her hand on her hips expectantly. "Yes, you. C'mon. Out with it." 

"I have no idea what you're talking about." 

She drawled out his name warningly. "Vaaaaash…." 

He tried to suppress a grin as he walked over to the mirror and gelled up his post-showered hair. "It's just a suspicion, but… Ah, hell. Just be patient with Knives. That's all." 

She opened her mouth to protest, but Vash cut her off by bending over and snooping through her bag. There were five angels in her room, all grooming. She'd come here to use his shower, after all. "I'm done with the bath. You can use it now. Lessee…" 

"Hey! Get outta my bag!" 

"Ah! The khaki pants, and black tank top. Good. You look cute in that." 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"Hm… What's this?" He pulled out a little plastic tube of chaptstick and eyed it quizzically. He popped off its lid, and inhaled. 

"You're acting weird, Vash." 

His eyelids fluttered shut, and he swooned as though it were the most heavenly scent in the world. "Ah! It smells so good! Fruity! Like…like…" 

"Grapes," Meryl supplied, cocking her head in bewildered amusement. She could have sworn she saw stars sparkle in his eyes. "It's just some grape-flavored chapstick I got from Milly's sister. Honestly, you're such a goof sometimes, Vash." 

His smile broadened, and he dropped it back in her bag. On his way out, he ruffled her hair, and uttered something that suspiciously sounded like a, 'He loves grapes.' 

Meryl turned, and tried to catch him but he was already striding down the hall. "Hey! You can't just walk away while we're in the middle of a conversation. Vash!" 

He raised his arm to the square, and waved without turning around. A blatant dismissal. Meryl huffed, grabbed her bag, and walked over to his bathroom. Shutting herself in, she leaned back against the door and laughed despite it all. 

Such a kid. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Knives' gaze fixed on the hologram in front of him. The popup of the next city's topography was detailed, with 3-D dimensions, and clusters that showed its densest residencies, along with well-plotted paths that lead to the population's generators, and quick ways back out. The markings were brightly colored, easy to read. They just needed a quick simulation programmed in. A trial run. 

He blinked disinterestedly. If he'd been focused, he would have finished it 45 minutes ago and would be handpicking his crew for the next raid by now. But he wasn't focused. Far from it, actually. 

_Knives. In all this time, have you ever come across your birth mother?_

Meryl's words came haunting back. He tilted his head back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He'd _looked_ for the plant angel that gave birth to he and Vash. _She didn't die in the Fall. I know she didn't…_ Knives felt his chest tighten with regret like it usually did when he reflected back on that impetuous desperate action that had cost the lives of thousands of plant angels. 

To have so many perfect beings perish along with the parasitical lesser creatures that were mankind… 

He bit his tongue, to redirect his thoughts back to his mother. He couldn't have killed her inadvertently. There was no way. If Conrad had survived the Fall, then she should have, too. Fate would have spared her for his sake. 

But after endless years of searching, he resigned himself to accept that she'd no doubt been sucked dry by mankind. Had probably shriveled up and died in the early years from misuse. 

The thought made his blood boil, and he took a calming breath. Why couldn't he shake it? This _need_ to know…? It wasn't logical, or necessary. It seemed to go against everything he'd forced himself to become in order to survive. But despite all his self-conditioning, and all those years of self-honed bitterness, there remained some irrational, primal instinct. Of a boy who just wanted to know his mom. 

"Must be pretty serious." 

He startled at Meryl's voice, arms swinging down on the armrests, sitting bolt upright in his chair. There she was, standing not three feet from him, clipboard in one hand, pen in the other. She had on her khaki's and tank top; a casual ensemble he always felt suited her well. Whether it was because it belied her professional nature, or flattered her figure, he wasn't sure. He just preferred seeing her in it. 

Her hair was wet, tucked behind her ears, and her face radiated with a post-shower sheen. And she was smiling with one brow arched, no doubt amused that she'd caught him off guard. 

How irritating. "What's serious?" he asked, sitting back in his chair. 

"Whatever it is you're thinking about." 

Another internal grimace, but he forced it away. "Do I ever _not_ think about serious things?" 

She tapped her lips with her pen, and snorted. "Yeah. When it's at _my_ expense." 

He smirked. He did enjoy seeing her get ruffled. 

She pushed off the panel and hovered over his chair to see the hologram, one hand on his shoulder, with the other leaning on the arm rest. She studied it. Her brow drew tight in the center. She looked back at him, and tilted her head in question. 

"You haven't programmed the trial run, yet?" 

A candy-sweet scent tickled his nose, and filled his lungs. It distracted all his thoughts, and his eyes were drawn to her lip-glossed, heart-shaped mouth. He searched for the source. Was it something she was chewing on? 

"Knives?" 

Another puff in his face. Her words carried it to him. A new fruit from the garden, maybe? His mouth watered, and he abruptly became very aware of the warm press of her hand on his shoulder blade. Something unauthorized stirred inside of him, followed by a sudden, outrageous urge to suck on her lips. 

_Wha…!?_

"Oh…" she all but whispered in a tone of amused discovery, followed by a half-laugh that was more of an exhale than a chuckle. 

His breath lodged in his throat. _My guard was up. She…she couldn't have caught that… Could she have?_

A tinge of red spread across her cheekbones. "So _you're_ the one who likes grapes." 

"G…grapes?" he breathed, wondering where the hell his eloquence had gone. His senses were confused. Her nearness was making his mind go blank. 

She self-consciously tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth, and nodded. 

His heartbeat started galloping as his gut tightened. Something significant was happening, but all he could think about was how badly he wanted to touch her. 

Her blush deepened, and she leaned back and straightened, looking shyly at her blank clipboard. "I'll just, uh…heh," she ran a fidgety hand through her already combed hair, "come back after you're finished, and we'll organize a team for the next raid. Okay? Okay." 

She turned and walked briskly out, leaving him with an unformed protest on his lips, wondering why he felt like they hadn't quite finished their conversation, even though nothing much was said.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

**

Again, there are manga scans depicting Dr. Conrad and Knives on my geocities site. 

**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"Yo, Milly! Can I get you something? You hungry? Thirsty? Need a backrub?" 

"Uh…" Milly sat up in her chair and lowered her pencil, blinking up at him in overwhelmed stupefaction. She looked around as though expecting someone else to be standing there. "Me?" 

Vash gave her his best smile. "You're always taking care of everyone else, so I figured it was time someone took care of you." 

It took a moment for her to take him seriously. He knew it would. But when she did, he got the pleasure of seeing those sky blue eyes of hers radiate with shy appreciation. Her cheeks colored. "I'm fine. Really. But that's so kind of you, Mr. Vash. No one has uh...ever offered to take care of me before. Heh." 

"Call me Vash. We've worked together long enough, haven't we?" He swiveled a chair around, and straddled it, resting his arms on its back to face her. He was delighted to have found her in a more quiet corner of the ship. "This entire community is indebted to you, you know. For saving us the other day." 

"Oh, that," she batted at the air as though it were nothing. "Those men were angry, but still sensible. Anyone could have talked them out of it." 

Vash shook his head at her modesty. "Oh, I doubt that." 

She grew increasingly shy as Vash grinned away. He couldn't help it. He reflected back with a serious case of hero-worship. A _hundred_ men! Despite her oblivious demeanor, he always knew she had this innate gift to read a situation with uncanny accuracy. But he'd never appreciated it until two days ago when she blew his whole perception of her by neutralizing what could have been a catastrophe. He'd been so relieved, he nearly cried. "So what exactly did you say to that militia out there?" 

She looked relieved that he was talking, and exhaled in a light laugh. "Well," she shrugged and stood, turning to file some of her paperwork on a shelf. "Not much, really. Just showed them who the angels were that they'd been living off of all this time." 

"Is that right?" he said, his interest being divided between her words and _her_. Always wearing those same faded overalls. Pony tail, with a small ribbon. Always modest, never one for adornment. But that was Milly. A spontaneous wonderment caused a picture to pop up in his head of what she'd look like if she decked herself out; perhaps a snug sleeveless black dress that hugged her curves instead of hiding them...hair half up, half down, with deliberatley stray wisps framing her face in an elegant array. And a touch of lipstick, to contrast with the fairy-blue dynamic of those bright, long-lashed eyes... 

Vash's expression froze as his mind did a double-take. The visual was almost shocking. 

"…half way through, and let them know that you and Knives would probably rip their limbs off and shove them down their throats if they tried." 

His smile straightened. "You said _what_?" 

She laughed and cocked her head. "Just kidding. You didn't seem like you were paying attention." 

It took his heart a second to slow back down, and when it did, he laughed. She was toying with him. But before he could jest back, his sisters chose just that moment to start arguing down the hall. He heard them, and cursed inwardly. He was reluctant to get up and intervene. Maybe they would just work it out themselves… 

Milly's demeanor changed to concern. "We should stop them before Knives hears." 

Vash smacked his forehead. _Dangit. That's right. Knives is still here._ With a heavy sigh and rolling of the eyes, he jumped up and bolted down the hall to find Mr. Thompson surrounded by a half dozen angels. 

"Oh no, really girls. I have to finish up this blueprint. And then I'll play a game of cards with you, Minmae." 

Loud, screeching protest. And Mr. Thompson backpedaled. "I mean Julie! Er, both of you! N-no. All of you!" A sweatdrop beaded down his brow. 

"Minmae! Julie!" Vash hissed, singling out the two biggest enemies. Their contentions were so irrational as of late, and it scared Vash more than once to feel the odious vibes they emitted when they fought. Beyond anger. Almost like they were warring in a survival of the fittest, like two alpha males. 

Their heads snapped up at his voice, and only offered mild resistance as he got each in a gentle headlock under his armpits. "Knock it off, ladies. _Knives_ is here." 

Minmae subsided, but Julie was still fierce. "She's always taking m-mine! M-my work. M-my cheery apples. My _human_!" 

Minmae boiled right back up and swiped at her sister, and a couple of the surrounding angels shouted. Vash spun Julie against the wall and tightened his hold on Minmae's neck, his usual patient demeanor with them was quickly being undermined by a growing dread. A dread that he might not be able to keep the truth from Knives much longer. 

"Ladies, ladies! Please!" he begged. "Just shelve it for now. Then I'll let you fight all you want when he leaves. Okay?" It was a lie, but he was desperate. Maybe it would placate them at least a little longer. 

Tensions dissipated to a tolerable level, and he let Minmae go, but not without pegging Julie with a glare. "You absolutely have to behave. I mean it. We can't have this going on while Knives is here. Now can you be friends?" 

Minmae spat, and Julie hissed, both stomping off in opposite directions, their white streaked hair jangling with electricity. Vash took a deep breath and shook his head. There was a light hand on his back, and he turned to see Milly there with more worry than hospitality in her face. 

"It's sad how quickly they forget they're on the same side…" she said. "Family should never fight like that." 

He waited until they both disappeared, then ran a shaky hand through his hair. Beyja came jogging up, quickly assessing that there'd been another altercation. She recognized Vash's distress immediately. "We'll keep them separated. Don't worry." 

Rueful smile. Vash headed off, tossing over his shoulder, "I'm going to make sure Knives didn't catch any of that negative vibe." He moved quickly through the garden chamber, and down a long hallway to a main area where many of the angels spent time teaching each other language, and obsessing over styles. Seeing the tranquil groupings calmed him somewhat. Thank heavens there were just a few contentious ones. 

He waved politely as he passed, most seeming to be disinterested in his presence, which was fine. He looked up to an overhang that they had crafted as the population grew. Almost like a balcony, connected to Knives' control room. 

Vash gulped. Sure enough, his brother was up there, those hard blue eyes searching the large chamber for something and then frowning when they locked on Vash. Vash grinned hugely, and waved, hoping to distract him. 

Then he ambled up the levels, skipping three steps at a time, and burst into the control room with a cheery, "Yo, Knives!" 

Knives' profile was unmoving as he watched the congregating area below, arms folded, expression set. Even his hair was reminiscent of a stone sentinel that wasn't given to whim or light-heartedness. Vash took a deep breath, put his face back on and joined his brother, leaning casually against the metal railing. He hoped and prayed that the altercation between their sisters had gone unnoticed. 

"You really could use something lively in here, Knives. A few plants. Some brightly colored paintings…" Vash tipped his head to better see his brother's face. His cursed unreadable face. "Eden is finally getting overpopulated," he said, aiming for casual conversation. "Which is a great sign, because it means we're almost done. So Mr. Thompson is drawing up some plans for a sister city so we'll have more space for when the rest are liberated—" 

"Vash…" Knives' tone was dark. Pensive. He spoke without turning to him, his fine blonde brow furrowed just the slightest. 

Vash held his breath, and waited. 

"Did you ever…" Knives pursed his lips, his frown deepening. 

"Did I ever what?" Vask asked. 

"Did you ever find her?" Knives turned to him then, and for all his practiced reticence, there was an honest anxiety creasing his face. He looked vulnerable. Vash's eyes widened in alarm, and he straightened. 

"Did I ever find who, Knives?" 

Pause. Knives' hands curled into fists. "Our mother." 

The words hit Vash like an anvil to the chest. Of all the topics he'd anticipated he'd have with his brother, Vash had neglected to prep himself for _this_. His throat constricted. So many bad memories… "Knives. I… I don't think--" 

"Tell me!!" Taking his hesitance for an affirmative, Knives' demeanor had flipped, and he was suddenly in Vash's face. "You know something! I can see it in your eyes!" 

"He never…told you…?" 

"Who!? Never told me what!?" 

Vash found himself slammed against the wall, with Knives' fists in his collar. His jaw muscles jumped, and his teeth, clenched. But Vash knew Knives' aggression was just a cover. Perhaps he was preparing himself for the worst. 

But the worst was beyond his imaginings. He had no idea… 

"I've searched for her," Knives hissed. "My memory of her is perfect. She had to have survived the crash…" 

"She… She survived the Great Fall," Vash answered, not missing how Knives flinched when The Fall was said out loud. As well he should. He'd single-handedly sent millions of innocent lives to horrible deaths, both humans and angels. Vash had often wondered how at peace - _really_ - he was with that day. 

"Did the plant engineers bleed her dry!?" Knives was shaking now, his wrath ricocheting throughout his entire body. Vash rested light hands on his brother's forearms, and held his frantic gaze until Knives' fingers relaxed. 

"No. Humans did not kill her." 

His eyes widened, a flicker of hope. "Then she's still alive?" 

"No." 

Knives' hands fell slowly to his sides. "Tell me," he breathed. 

Vash gave in. Not because he felt Knives would cope well with the answer, but because he quite simply couldn't keep the answer from him. "She was in July, Knives." 

Five small words, and they could have been a blow to the gut for all the effect it had on him. A small, stunned exhale came from Knives' lips. He took a shaky step back and raised one arm as though to retract the truth, and then he grimaced and turned away, curling his fingers over the railing and hanging his head low between his shoulders. Vash watched his knuckles turn white as he clutched at it, rocking slowly back and forth on his heels, as though to transfer guilt with motion. 

Echoes of Vash's life in July came haunting back. Of friends. Much laughter. _Family._ There was a reason he'd stayed in July for so many years, that had nothing to do with occupation or mankind. He flinched at the painful recollection, giving way to a darker sentiment like a puddle evaporating in the noon heat. Suddenly Knives' emotional well-being wasn't so important. Vash's compassion was quickly swallowed up in a boiling resentment that he thought he'd overcome. He tried to fight it, but it was too strong. Confronting Knives about that day brought it all back. 

"Yes, brother," he said with shaky vocal cords, his words trolling out like a death sentence. "You killed her. With that damn angel arm you forced onto me. You pulled the pin out of a nuclear grenade, when you didn't even think twice about the angels' lives that would be sacrificed." Vash's own hands clenched into fists. "Did you know the explosion would be that big?" he trembled. "Did you!?" 

Knives stopped rocking, but he didn't look up. After a moment, his head bobbed once. A nod. Curbing an intense urge to pummel him senseless, Vash turned around and punched a hole in the wall. "_Damn you..._" 

A pregnant silence followed, wherein Vash tried to lock the memories back in the recesses of his mind, where they couldn't cloud his thoughts with bitterness and hate. 

It was hard. 

"Did you… Did you talk with her?" Knives asked, his voice raw, muffled. 

Vash took a deep breath, and blinked the moisture from his eyes. "Of course I talked to her. I talked to her all the time." He swallowed past the lump in his throat, remembering his many excursions to the local generator, and her gentle face through the glass. "She was full of compassion. Of curiosity. And she adored people. So much so that she fell in love with the son of one of the engineers that created her." 

Knives' brows raised, and he lifted his flushed face. Vash grimaced at a too-clear memory from when Knives had murdered their biological grandfather. Gutted him, and left his body in the desert. It was one of the few moments Vash had actually _felt_ his brother across the planet, and had known exactly what he'd done. 

"It's no wonder Conrad never told you," Vash said somberly. "But then, I guess you would have killed him either way." 

Knives's face turned ashen as he uncurled from his bent position like a possum in the throes of death. "Conrad? H-He was our...?" 

"Yes." 

Vash didn't have to say 'Grandfather'. He didn't have to reiterate that Knives had slain both their bloodlines. He also didn't have to inform Knives that it meant at least 50% of him was 100% of the species he hated most. By the speechless wide-eyed horror on his brother's green face, it was obvious that he got it quite clearly. 

Vash quietly watched him as he stumbled back, leaning heavily against the railing for support… His eyes were frantic, bouncing from the ground to Vash, to his control room, back to the ground. A small whimpering sound emanated from his throat. His teeth clenched and eyes scrunched shut. 

Vash let the self-denial run its course. Knives would pull out of it. The rationale behind his motives was still untouched. The angels were still an unblemished breed in his mind, and every action of his past was validated because of that belief. So the macabre self guilt he was feeling from the newfound blood on his hands, coupled with the self-hate from learning the truth of his heritage, would not break him. It might take the piss and vinegar out of his personality for a while, but he'd pull out of it. Because the angels were still better than mankind to him. Still worth saving 

_You'll be fine, brother. Let this humble you,_ a light to this dark moment lifted one corner of his mouth. _And hopefully your unacknowledged love for Meryl can do the rest._

Vash went over to rest a hand on Knives' back when a wailing shriek from below made both their heads swivel. 

Vash's breath caught in his throat. _No…_

Two animated flurries wove through the clusters of angels, one with an armful of fruit, the other behind her in hot pursuit. Mortified, Vash instantly recognized them as Pepper and Lela. Their lips were pulled back over their four rows of teeth in a feral aggression. And a mental shout pierced his awareness as Lela caught Pepper's hair and yanked. _Give now! MINE!_

Pepper screamed, half-turned, and raked her nails across her sister's face. Vash's heart just about stopped. An attack like that by a human would have left a few scratches. But by a plant angel? The perfect porcelain skin of Lela's cheek now dangled from her skull in crimson flaps as blood poured down her neck and shoulder. 

Blood was drawn. That had never happened before. 

He cried out in horrified denial, and a heady cocktail of confusion, disbelief, and horror slammed into his awareness from this right. He turned to see Knives' widening stare locked on the scene below. 

_Shit shit shit!_ Vash made a fist, torn between tackling him to the ground and beating the memory from him, or jumping down to intervene. 

"Stop fighting!" Angela came running in with Bejya and Meryl behind her. "Stop it!! It's _food_! You can make more of it!" Angela came to a skidding halt when she saw the blood, falling to her knees in abject horror. Bejya leapfrogged over her, only to be backhanded by Lela when she tried to place herself between them. 

Bejya fell in a crumpled heap several yards back, with surrounding angels up on their feet, some screaming, some crying, some grunting with distress… 

Someone had to stop it. With one last pained look at his stupefied brother, Vash swung both his legs up and over the banister and fell forty feet below, rolling when he hit. When he popped up, Lela and Pepper were nothing more than a flurry of limbs. Angels that tried to stop them were barred by their respective posses, which in turn ignited more violent reactions. 

The screaming became deafening. Vash bludgeoned his way through the crowd, with his hands over his ears, but a sickening dull pop made him stumble. The angels went rigid at the sound. 

At first Vash saw it in his peripheral vision. A lobbed, rounded object arching through the air. His gut reaction was that it was the bowl of fruit. Of course that would be the first thing tossed. But then too-curious eyes followed, and he saw that it had hair. 

And a face. 

He inhaled with a choked gasp, and clutched his chest. The shock rendered him speechless. When it landed with a soft thud, the strength left Vash's legs. 

The fight had ended itself. The dead silence ended itself. He wasn't the only one who collapsed to the ground in great sobbing hiccups. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Pepper's decapitated body crumpled in the dirt, the catalyst now being forgotten, and no one moved to reclaim the bowl of fruit as it tipped and emptied. Lela, who was ripped to shreds and covered in blood looked at her offending claws as though surprised to find them attached to her wrists. Then she swayed, and passed out. 

Meryl's vision blurred as the tears began to form. Traumatized, she doubled over and nearly retched. But then the sound of Vash's cries reached her ears. She forced her body still, and searched him out in the crowd. He was on all fours, with his fingers digging in the dirt. His sobs wracked his entire body. She made to go to him, but a terrified anguish, more potent than Vash's or his sisters' reactions combined, yanked her attention upwards. Her stomach lurched in her throat as she saw two hands disappear off the inside of the railing. 

_Knives!_

She turned and found Milly standing in horrified silence by the entrance. When they made eye contact, Meryl jerked her chin directionally at Vash and after a moment of collecting herself, Milly nodded. 

Meryl took a deep breath and ran for the stairs, making it up four flights in mere seconds. Breathing heavily, she slammed her fist on the door panel, and it whooshed open. And there he was, curled in a ball with his hands ripping at his hair by the roots. His entire body was oscillating, offset by deep throaty hyperventilating. 

Her vision blurred, and she ran to him. "Knives…" 

He didn't look up, unhearing, unseeing. She knelt down and gingerly felt his arm. He whimpered and recoiled from her touch. Her voice rose. "Knives…" 

"_No different,_" he whispered, transmitting more psychological noise than even Meryl could bear. He banged his fists against his skull with each word. "_We're no different!_"

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**: On my geocities site, there are manga scans from when little Knives caused the Great Fall. It's a very intense and emotional scene. His face seems split between two separate personalities, and the left side appears horrified at what his right side is doing. In other words, what's written below is founded. So I believe. 

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Despite Meryl's intervention and frantic pleading, Knives' digression had spiraled his consciousness straight into an autistic state. For three days he had been laid up now, mumbling incoherencies and tossing and twitching like a bird without wings. Unaware. Unreachable. It wasn't a coma, and it wasn't some nightmarish sleep. It was like he was shackled somewhere deep inside his psyche, and couldn't get out. 

And Meryl couldn't get in. She'd tried. 

The room they kept him in was well-oxygenated with heavy vegetation. Rows of brightly colored fauna streaked from wall to wall, while thick-veined vines hung from intermittent rivets, draping the entire room in a shadowy, lush green. The foliage took its nourishment from a large, paneling window along the southern side, allowing natural sunlight to warm the air and feed their petals. All were added elements to lessen the troubled atmosphere. Pathetic attempts to calm someone who couldn't be reached. 

Vash had painstakingly stripped Knives' body of all potential weapons in fear that he might hurt himself in the throes of his autism. At the moment however, the thrashing was minimal. He lay there in flannel pajama bottoms and socks, on a bed against the wall with no IVs, no medicinal equipment and no plant angel… None of those aids would have done him any good. It wasn't his body that was ailing. 

It was his soul. 

"_J-janet Goldbloom…5'4, 150lbs. London. Earth. 2154. JerryGoldbloom, 6'2. 210lbs. Dublin. Earth. 2148….Kansas Ellington. 5'2, 125lbs…" _

A nurturing reflex, Meryl gently squeezed his hand and leaned over him to run light nails through his sweaty hair. Every few minutes the raw-voiced babblings would swell into intermittent monologues of clarity, like now. And he'd been rattling off names and places for the past two hours. 

She wondered who the people were. 

"How's he doing?" 

Meryl startled, even though Vash's voice was soft. "The same…" She turned back to meet his anxious eyes, trying her best to offer a hopeful smile. Vash's face was weary, worried. They hadn't had much of a chance to talk at all, having been alternating turns watching him while the other helped lessen the post-murder chaos of Eden. 

"How is everything on the main level?" she asked. 

"Quiet. For now. Mr. Thompson's blueprint for a twin Eden is only halfway finished, and Angela and Bejya are standing guard at his door like sentinels, keeping the girls away." 

Meryl might have made a light joke at that like she usually did, but suddenly the angels' irrational competition over the resident human male wasn't so funny anymore. "Where's Milly?" 

He frowned. "Sleeping. Deeply. I tried to get her up earlier, but she wouldn't budge. I think she's just worn out. It's almost like she's in a deep meditation or something." 

"I see..." Meryl considered her friend. Milly was the one everybody else had leaned on until they were able to stand on their own again. Even Vash was useless for nearly a day after the incident. "She probably needs recuperating on every level. Leave her be for now." 

"Yeah." 

"_Mariko Nakata, 5'4, 120lbs. Okinawa, Japan…_," Knives' mental checklist was cut short as he spasmed violently and hissed. A grimace twisted his features and he curled up into fetal position, tugging against invisible restraints. He exhaled in a small whimper, and Vash and Meryl both just about lost it. 

Vash dropped to his knees, and shook him, while Meryl leaned over the bed. "Knives! Knives, can you…!?" 

His half-lidded, unseeing eyes widened dramatically and then scrunched shut. He tucked his head in his arms, "_Maria Paz Gomez, 5'1, 105lbs, Aranjuez, Spain…! Pascual Mateo, Domingo Sanchez, Beatriz Tinoco!!"_ His lips moved frantically over the half-spoken mantras, as though chanting them were somehow his lifeline. 

There had been worse outbursts, but none so informative. Vash turned to her. "Those...those are _names._" 

"I know." 

"How long has he been doing this?" 

"Right after we switched shifts." 

Vash leaned forward and listened, his concentration hard-lining his face. Meryl waited in dread anticipation until his brows raised in distressed understanding. He suddenly looked ill. "They're profiles." 

"Profiles?" 

"Of the humans on board the SEEDs ship." Vash leaned back and rubbed his eye sockets with the heels of his palms. "Like a twisted memorial, or form of self punishment. I think he's trying to recall each one. Their faces. Their identities… Of these people whose lives he stole when he snapped." 

Vash's voice dropped to a wavering whisper as his brother pushed desperately through another round of names. "Knives… It's happening all over again, isn't it? Your heart has sustained more damage than your mind could handle…" 

A weighted silence passed, save for the muffled sounds and rubbing sheets of Knives' inner struggle. Meryl bit her lips when Vash turned with that familiar moisture gathering in his eyes. His voice cracked. "It's because his heart was soft, Meryl. Do you see that? Back then…with Tessla, it was because his heart was so soulful and kind that it couldn't withstand the shock. If I'd been half as compassionate, then maybe it would have been me--" 

"Vash--" 

"And now…" he grit his teeth and shook Knives with a forced gentile. "All those psychological fortresses that his subconscious set up to protect him couldn't stand the bludgeoning of finding out his dream was a lie. His mass-murdering, unfounded." A tear welled up and rolled down his cheek. "Beneath those seven layers of steel, he still has a gelatin core." He pressed his brow against his brother's white-knuckled fists. "So many things are against him right now. And after he'd come so far, thanks to your influence…" 

His tone scared her. "He'll pull through this, Vash," she almost snapped, unable to entertain the possibilities that they might lose him. 

"Will he?" his tone was accusatory. Desperate. "What if what little sanity he's regained over the years dissipates? What if he's twice as insane, and decides that _both_ species need to be terminated? What if he wakes up, and can't live with the agony of having murdered so many innocents?? Now that he knows the truth of what he's done? What if—" 

His voice caught as Meryl leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. She pillowed Vash's head against her bosom and swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Don't you dare give up hope. He has you. He has me. We know what's happening to him. Somewhere between madness and broken soul, he'll find his place. Have faith, Vash. Have faith." 

Reluctant hands lifted up to clutch at the material of her jacket, his breathing uneven. She stood there bent over him for several moments, while the half-dressed plant in the bed continued to spasm and utter names of those who'd died long ago. Meryl watched Knives through blurring vision as she held his brother, secretly taking comfort where she was supposed to be giving it. If Vash knew how worried she really was… 

"Let me watch him tonight," she said quietly, so he wouldn't hear how shaky her own vocal cords were. "You're exhausted. Let go of your worries for one night, and sleep. Okay? Think of all we've accomplished. Slaves freed and lives saved. Rejoice in the positive, and the rest will come." 

After a moment, he sniffled and pulled back. His eyes were almost electric green, due to the red-veined sleeplessness that webbed the whites around them. He wiped them roughly with the backs of his hands, and took her hint to stop being so pessimistic. "I _am_ tired." 

She stepped back as he stood, mouthing the words, 'think positive!' 

"You'll be alright?" he asked. 

"Of course." 

"I'll bring you ice cream." 

"Okay." 

With one last hug and a pained glance at his brother, Vash left the room. She kept her eyes trained on his back, and her ears trained on his footsteps. It wasn't until the rapid thud of his feet left the bottom flight of stairs that she gave up trying to be strong. 

She plunked down on the bed next to her companion of two years, unable to tell if his resulting flinch was just a reflexive impulse at being touched, or the byproduct of some wicked memory he was forcing himself to relive. Meryl rested her brow along his fevered shoulder, and reached one arm around his back while clasping her fingers over his wrist. She brought his hand up to her lips, wishing she could transfer all of her will via touch. 

"Find the strength, Knives. We need you…" Her vision blurred even more as his glazed eyes fluttered and closed. She pulled the sheets up over his body, not caring now that the first set of tears rolled down her cheeks. "_I'm here…_" she breathed, biting back a sob. "Right in front of your face…!" The underlying panic began to roil in her abdomen, and she cleaved to his body even though his mind was so far away. 

Meryl found herself buried under a heap of sudden, powerful emotions that, somewhere along the line, she'd developed for this being. This half-man. This brother of Vash's. The thought of not hearing his snide remarks anymore, or having such a haughty cockiness around to egg on and poke fun at… Of not having his constant need for attention, or quiet moments of stolen glances and guarded thoughts… It felt like a cold skeletal hand was squeezing her heart. 

Three days of etiquette, patience, and long-suffering went out the window. She shook him. Hard. "You're an ass. A total jerk. And regardless of how much Vash wants to blame your sins on insanity, I suspect that a part of you still merited the hell you're suffering through right now," she sobbed, and thumped his ribs with her fist. "But I don't care! Do you hear me? I don't want to lose you to this. I don't want to lose you at all!!" 

The words left her mouth before she thought to withhold them, out in the air and as open to interpretation as scripture. But there was no one to read into them. No one to look at her as though she'd just swallowed a bug. No one to be offended at her display of obvious weakness. 

The spell wove on. His lips hadn't stopped moving once. She could have hung him upside down by his toes, and it would have made no difference… "_Chad Lillifield, 6'3, 215lbs, Chicago, IL 2145. Shannon Lillifield, 5'11, 155lbs. Los Angeles, CA 2142… one daughter…_" 

Indifferent to audience or circumstance, unphased, unfocussed vision fixed on some random point beyond her nearness, and despite her arms around him his limbs trembled as though his body were suspended in the barren frigid air of a desert night. 

A vortex of despair threatened to swallow her whole right then, and Meryl made a fist and pushed off him, her teeth clenched, and jaw muscles jumping. If she succumbed now, there'd be little recovery. And she'd be of no help at all if she were weak. 

She stood. _Distraction… I need a distraction._ A quick break. Enough to regroup her emotional fortress. Splash some water on her face. Brush her teeth. Put on some pajamas… She informed him where she'd be out of habit. "Since you're not listening to me, I'm going to get ready for bed. Don't do anything outrageous in the few minutes I'm gone, got it? I'm not finished with you." Her voice wasn't quite stable, and she roughly wiped the tears from her face and forced herself to leave. 

_Agh. It's like pulling my teeth just to walk away from him…_

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

"_We can work through a few little differences. If we just talk to each other enough, we can come to understand each other. Because there's no difference between people's hearts and ours. Right Vash?"_

The echo of a lost past reverberated in his consciousness like a ricocheting bullet, peppering his soul with karma, pain, and judgment all at once. He couldn't count how many times he'd heard it. Endless. He recognized the little boy's voice, and he recognized the words. They both belonged to him on the day of his first birthday. 

And then the thing…the creature that had swallowed him whole the last time he was in this lawless, ungoverned place… His insane alter-ego. It wanted control again. 

_Weakened fool…_ Its presence. More ominous. Malignant. 

_You're done with…_

Penetrating to the core of his marred black soul. 

_The way out…is through me…_

Knives wept, and tried to bury himself into an illusionary hole. The voracious entity scourged his back, and burned his skin, while snake-like tendrils wrapped around his limbs, shackling him down. It'd been going on for too long. The battle he was waging to retain his sense of self was taking its toll. He panicked as his thinly held grip on his identity fragmented yet again, threatening to disperse his free will to the booming, hollow nothingness that swirled around him like a vulture. 

The last time he'd lost to it, it had made him do horrible, horrible things… His only defense against it was memory, and even that was failing… 

_Than Diep, 5'5, 120lbs, Vietnam, 2149. Rolondo Benson, 5'10…_ He dutifully extracted the profiles from the recesses of his mind, remembering in detail faces, names, everything…of the people onboard the SEEDs project. The ones whose lives he'd played God with, when he was no God. 

_Mohonra Ava'a, 5'10, 290lbs, Hawaii, 2158. Meki Nu'usila, 5'9, 300lbs, Samoa, 2160…_

His voice was empty - lost to another dimension…a place unlike this that was still bound by time and rules, but he listed them off regardless; a tribute, a memorial, some futile attempt to retract his genocidal slaughter of millions of innocents… He couldn't tell. Yet a conscience long-buried dictated that it be done…that somehow its fruition might assuage the bottomless well of regret that was ripening his soul up for oblivion. 

But then a part of him almost wished for oblivion… 

_Find the strength…!_

His head shot up. 

_We need you!_

A distant reverberating voice, faded but there. Definitely there. Knives tried to rise, despite the suffocating weight bearing down on him. _It…it can't be her…_

_You're such an ass!_

His soul lurched. There was no mistaking that one. Like a ray of light, her familiar influence shot straight through the roiling mist that surrounded him. He fought against his restraints, and beheld her foreign element in the midst of his chaos. A vibrant, colorful brightness that made even the beast over him screech with alarm. 

The light pulsed heavily, her voice more emotional than he'd ever heard it. _I don't want to lose you…_

_Meryl…_ His awareness sharpened dramatically as the words clung tenaciously to the forefront of his mind. She meant it. There were tears in her voice. _Dammit, girl…_ Amongst other things he didn't care to identify, it confused him. And made him mad. He shook his head and his self-punishment roared, denying her sentiment on every level. _How could you say that!? I killed your parents!_

Nothing. 

_Where's your dignity? How could you feel anything for me besides hatred?_

The brightness flickered, and the slithering creatures around his abdomen and neck recoiled. He looked in awe at his bruised, bloodied wrists. Then it dawned on him. She'd pierced the veil. 

It was a way out. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Meryl patted her face dry with the towel, and looked in the mirror. _Ugh. Eyes are still puffy…_ She inhaled deeply, also frustrated that her breath was still uneven with emotion. She ran her fingers through her hair and shook it until the dark mass was draped around most of her face. Maybe she could hide it on her way back. 

"Hey Meryl…" 

She startled and spun around. Blocking the door with her tall lithe frame was none other than the first liberated angel. "Angela. Hi. I thought you were watching Mr. Thompson--" 

"It's under control for now. You okay?" 

"I was just—" 

"Worrying about Knives, I bet." 

_Agh, that girl. Curse her ability to read vibes. _Meryl fought it for all of three seconds before fessing up. The need to be honest with someone was pressing. Especially herself. She nodded somberly. 

Angela pursed her lips and leaned against the door frame with her arms folded. Quietly. Patiently. She always knew when to listen. It was almost surreal to see how far she'd come with communication, and mimicking human expressions and gestures in the past two years. 

"I can't reach him, Angela," Meryl breathed, not trusting her vocal cords for something this close to her heart. "And whatever he's experiencing in there, it's gotta be traumatic. I mean, you know Knives. Always carries around that impermeable attitude. That haughty indifference. Arrogant, condescending… Always in control." She paused to collect herself, shocked that his most annoying attributes were what she missed the most. "He's _scared_, Angela. Quivering lips, muted whimpering, brow drawn in a knot. Like a little boy. And for all my telepathy, and touching, and voice, I can't get through!" She clutched the back of a chair and leaned heavily on it. 

Fortunately the plant angel knew better than to hug her. That would have just made it worse. Instead she closed the door to give Meryl more privacy. "Vash told me that Knives is facing the ugliness of his past." 

Meryl sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I _know_ he's facing the ugliness of his past. I'm all for him suffering a little, but when he's done," her voice hitched, and she made a fist. "I want him back!" 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Knives was coming around, his vision still vivisected in a kaleidoscope of muted grays and dim yellows, and whites…his soul-crushing only alleviated somewhat by his wonderment. 

_Where am I?_

Millions more names were on the tip of his tongue. He remembered reaching for Meryl's presence as it withdrew. He remembered being caught in a tug-a-war as the darkness of insanity tried to claim him back. He remembered being enveloped by the light. And then there was a thundering bass whoom, and his senses went blank. 

He squinted as the haze around his eyes cleared. The floor was clean and paneled…the walls bolted around coiling metal pipes and tubes like the intestines of a monster. There was a two-seat control panel, observing an inner room with an encased bed. And equipment. A plethora of medicinal equipment. A sick feeling lodged in his gut, as he stood on wobbly legs. There was a vase on the floor with long-stemmed honeysuckle feathering out of it. But for all the flowers' sweet scent, nothing could dim the stench of formaldehyde when it reached his nose. 

He swallowed down an instant gag reflex. His body recognized where he was before his mind could accept it, and like the rotation of Gunsmoke around its sun, he couldn't stop himself from turning around. 

The corpse was still suspended in the vat of liquid just as he remembered it, a macabre display of unethical experimentation and cruelty. The young girl's face was peeled off, her skull cut, with the eyeballs and brain floating in a separate container. She'd been undressed and disemboweled, with her innards floating around what was left of her skin like some freak specimen… 

Knives stumbled back. A hand shot to his mouth as he tried to muffle the gurgled cry that resulted. No coherent words, no coherent thought. What little sliver of sanity he'd regained was rapidly slipping as old regrets mingled with new regrets. The memory of wishing for an earlier birth winded him with its poignancy…a wish that he could have saved this beautiful unique baby sister from being tortured to death by too-curious hands, and indifferent hearts. He went reeling, and buckled. 

_No! Not here! Not like this!_ He gasped for breath, _P-Piotr Svengard, 150lbs, 6'3, Stockholm, 2153! Olga Svengard. 123lbs, 5'2! S-S-S-_

"Knives..." 

The voice froze him, mid-profile...a soft helium-pitched small, small sound. He lifted his head and turned slowly. 

"You don't need to say their names anymore, little brother." 

The cherubic rounded face, and large turquoise eyes – eyes lighter than Vash's and twice as bright - blinked up at him with more compassion than he could bear. He picked his leaden body up off the floor onto his knees, until their heads were level, disbelieving eyes watering up like sieves for the one being in existence that he would not only cry for, but let see his tears. His lips quivered over her unforgotten name, not questioning how she was there, like a spirit visiting its grave. Only that she was. "Te…_Tessla_…" 

Sad smile - an expression too mature for her young face, and she shuffled over to him in oversized baggy clothes, bringing both tiny hands up to wipe the moisture from his cheeks. "Don't cry." 

A century and a half of holding it in…of forcing his fears, frustrations and animosities out destructive and violent venues, suddenly manifested itself in a deluge of emotion. With a choked sob, he caught her up in his long arms, and hugged her to his bosom like a long lost child. Big throaty cries erupted unchecked from his lips, out loud, and out of all reasonable control. The breakdown racked his entire body, and soaked her slender shoulder. It hurt worse than he could have imagined. 

"_I couldn't save you!_" he wept. "If only I'd been born first, maybe I could've--" 

"I know." She ran her hand over his hair. "I know." 

His bottom lip sucked in and out with each tragic breath. "But what I did to them, afterwards... You don't know what I've done…" he held his trembling hands up between them, a fresh set of tears streaming down his cheeks, "what these half-crazed and desperate hands have done in an effort to avenge your death!" 

She tilted her head, and her gentle-hued eyes grew heavy with severity. "But I do." 

So she knew? He let go of her and curled further into himself, wishing he could wriggle out of his own, wretched skin. "Th-this whole time, I'd convinced myself that we were godly. It justified _everything_. But now... We're no different, are we? Sister species...sentient beings with the same souls..." 

There was a heavy pause, and she confirmed the truth of his statement with her fragile silence. He whimpered in anguish, knowing with a surety that nothing he could do would even come close to balance out the injustice he'd wrought upon both peoples. Surely they wanted him dead. It was the most he could give, but also the least-- 

"You want to kill yourself?" she asked softly, privy to his thoughts. He looked up, mouth agape. She frowned sympathy at him. "Do you think that the souls of all the lives you ended are crying out for your death?" 

"Yes," he breathed. 

She knelt down in front of him until she was looking up into his eyes. A corner of her compassionate mouth lifted. "Hatred and resentment are only ailments of the living, Knives. Not the dead." 

He blinked stupidly. Such profound words from the mouth of a child... "I...I don't--" 

"--believe that you have the right to go on living?" She touched his face. "Then remember..." 

He stared at her in stunned disbelief, as her words summoned a memory archived in one of the deepest corners of his mind…those last moments on the spaceship, in the moment of The Great Fall. Evidence he'd long-since buried, because the truth of it would have sucked at his existence like a gaping black whole. A fresh set of tears rolled down his face. 

Vash and Rem had been asleep. His right hand was tapping furiously away at the panel, while his left was smearing his cheek with his own blood. "I…I was scared." 

"Yes." 

Air hissed in and out of his teeth as he clawed at his face, recalling the insane alter-ego that had taken control of his life at that point – having gone beyond whispering and suggestion, and actually moving his limbs. Bringing the SEEDs project to a tragic end. It was the only other time in his life that his eyes had leaked real tears…the only time in his life he'd deliberately marred his body as a dim remnant of his former self tried to stop the genocide…biting the inside of his cheeks as his right hand tapped away, chewing the entire nail right off his left thumb and swallowing it… "I couldn't stop myself!" 

Two hands on his shoulders. "But you wanted to." 

A hiccuping sob. "But... What I did..." 

"Gunsmoke needs you. Those people need you. Go back, little brother." 

He almost choked. "How...how can I? How can I face them?" 

The next phrase was sent telepathically, penetrating his insecurities like a knife and reverberating all the way to his core. 

_You're not that monster anymore, Knives. You haven't been for over a hundred years._

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Elsewhere on the ship, an individual who had been lost in slumber, suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, staring wildly against the blackness as her heart pounded in her ears. She brought trembling hands up to touch her face, her hair, her mouth... 

_Whoa..._

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Meryl had cut her conversation short with Angela for her own sake, and managed to meander back to Knives' room without drawing notice. Head bowed. Hair obscuring her features…with a rollup mattress tucked under one arm, and a pillow under the other… 

As she marched up those last steps, she self-consciously patted her face, and wiped her eyes, as though it would make them look any less swollen from crying. _Since when did I become such a baby? _And then, _Agh. It's not like he's awake to poke fun at me anyways…_

She swooshed open the door, took three steps in, and stiffened. The bed was empty. 

Her heartbeat quickened. Had Vash taken him out? Meryl twisted to go track them down, wishing he could have at least informed her— 

And stopped on the about-face. Sitting on the window sill with his back against its frame, and one leg pulled up, sat their patient. Staring out wistfully into the deepening dusk. Meryl made a small startled noise, and both the mattress and pillow fell. The relief and wonderment were so overwhelming, she couldn't even say his name. 

The moons were out…bright enough to silver his profile. His easy-on-the-eyes profile, with an expression that bore no ill will, or hard edge. Just a tremendous sadness. She almost didn't recognize him. "Kn…Kn…_Knives…?_" 

He said nothing. Eyes still transfixed on some random point outside the window, he didn't even look at her. Her bare feet whispered across the grass as she ran up to him, her heart in her throat. "Are...are you okay?" she cried more than asked, stopping on the bare edge of his personal space. Up close, she saw the salt lines on his cheeks, and puffiness of his eyes. 

His chest heaved with a deep sigh, and he finally met her stare. She held her breath. There was a light snort - a dim remnant of his former self. "I'm not crazy, if that's what you mean," he replied in a hoarse voice. 

Meryl hiccupped, and the tears she'd just barely managed to get under control, came pouring back. Before she thought to stop herself, she fell on him, too damn relieved to care about how many unspoken rules she was breaking between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face in his chest. "I was so worried," she sobbed in a choked whisper, wetting his bosom with her tears. "I couldn't reach you. I tried. For days, I tried! I was afraid you'd never come back..." 

Two startled breaths ruffled her hair. His muscles tensed at her affection, and she could feel his heartbeat quicken. He obviously had no idea what to do with her, but Meryl almost enjoyed his discomfort, because it meant that he was still _him_. She waited in anticipation for his embarassed protest. But it didn't come. 

He shifted awkwardly, but after a few seconds, he finally gave up on trying to wriggle free, and rested a tentative hand on her shoulder. "M-Meryl..." 

"What?" 

"You _did_ reach me." 

Her eyes widened. "You heard me?" 

"You said I was an ass." 

"Ah! You heard me!" 

He was quiet for a moment, letting his memory tickle the edges of her mind...of a dark, vast place. Of shackles, conflict, and hovering insanity. Then a light...a light embodying her voice. Her blood ran cold. _That's where you were? In that place?_

She felt him shiver. "Mm. Though I don't..." his voice hitched, and he tried again, "I don't understand why you wanted me back so bad." 

He sounded genuinely confused. She could hear it in his words. Could even feel it in the vibes emitted between them. She made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cry. "Well, I'd explain to you, but..." She sniffled and wiped her eyes on his chest. It was time for a little tease. "...hell if I know. It's not like you're all that pleasant." 

He huffed in a light exhale at the jest. It might have been a chuckle had he dedicated more than one breath to it. She felt the weight of his other hand clasp her waist; whether it was to ease her back, or pull her closer, she didn't know. Apparently neither did he, since it just stayed there, doing nothing. 

"Now that you're back, will you stay? With us?" she asked, reluctant to break the spell. 

"Where else would I go?" 

"Good." She closed her eyes. "Good..." Several seconds passed as her relief simmered down, and the taboo sensation of hugging Knives started to cloud her senses. He suddenly seemed sensual to her, with the smooth heat of his body, and his wounded eyes. Her hand dropped on a volition of its own to glide along the soft downy hair that blanketed his chest... 

"Karen Lillifield," he uttered, breaking the trance. 

"K-Karen...? Wait..." She frowned. The name triggered something. Her body had an instant reaction to it, manifest by a quickened heartbeat, and shallow breath. She pulled back to stare at his oddly determined face. "Wha…_what_ did you just say?" 

He pursed his lips, as though mustering up courage. "That's...that's your name. The only daughter of Chad and Shannon Lillifield. You were earthborn in New Jersey, USA, 2174. Your father was an engineer, and your mother was a speech therapist." 

"Karen...Lillifield..." she repeated in an awed whisper. Her body began to tremble, and her chest began to hurt. A slow hand lifted to cover her mouth as a gasping sob tried to escape. The tears replenished in a half-second, falling down her face at an alarming rate. She couldn't even lecture him for lying to her about her identity, before. Couldn't even speak. 

Intimidated by her emotion, he chewed his bottom lip, and dropped his gaze to his lap. A light flush spread across his cheekbones, and he fidgeted, those ice-blue eyes that had once been so cold finally lifting and locking stares with her in a way that both warmed her heart and weakened her knees. 

"I used to watch you sleep in your cyberpod," he explained softly, "on the ship back then. For hours. I…" he looked down again, his hands clenching into fists and then forcibly relaxing. He snorted at his own discomfort. The next words he didn't even bother to say out loud. 

_I thought you were pretty…_

She gasped. Right in between her sobs. Two confessions, both more than she could emotionally contain in one instant. Rendered speechless by the news of her long lost identity, and Knives' affection for her - impulse took over. She shoved herself forward, but somehow in the delivery of her overwhelmed gratitude, her face neglected to tilt enough to bury itself into his shoulder. Instead, she found herself kissing him, the moisture of their mouths mingling with residual tears. 

A small stunned whimper resounded deep in his throat, and Meryl quickly came to her senses. _Ooooh! Oh shit!_ She leapt back, clamping a hand over her offending lips. Knives was gaping at her in a heady cocktail of intrigue, passion and residual anguish, frozen on the spot. 

"Sorry. I, uh," she smacked her forehead as her cheeks grew hot with a flush. "I didn't mean to..." _Where the hell did that come from!?_ "Vash will want to know that... Awake. You are. So I'll," she nearly tripped as she backed towards the door. "Send him. Okay? Okay." Just before exiting, she swiveled her head around the door. "You'll still be here, right?" 

Still gaping, Knives nodded mutely. 

"Right." With that, she all but ran down the levels, wondering through crazed exasperation at what point the refined, professional insurance girl became the type of person who just spontaneously kissed people.

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:**Let me quickly address the reasons why Wolfwood doesn't even get a mention in this story. I took history from the manga, but I based the story off the anime. And there is so much angst tagged to Wolfwood's name because his tale was so tragic, that I feared it would leech at my story like a black hole. I was cognizant of that from the very beginning. This story has one purpose - to revolutionize Knives. Everything in it, even Meryl is just a means to that end. Granted, I'll toss in pointless adornment (like Vash's abrupt crush on Milly). But the mention of Wolfwood is too heavy to mention as a side. Does that make sense? It's a story all on its own.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

They didn't even begin the preparations for the next raid until a full 45 days later, after a twin city to Eden had been partially completed, and living arrangements arranged. It had been a whirlwind process, executed with haste and anxiety. Lela had been confiscated to an old storage area of the ship for now, both to give her time to cope with what she'd done, and to protect her from Peppper's collage of friends. 

And Knives…he was there in body, and deed, but his soul still seemed barred down under a tremendous weight. He was always distant and withdrawn…the only person he ever talked to anymore was Vash. And he avoided Meryl like the plague. 'Awkward' didn't even come close to describing the mood between them, now. 

If it weren't for the kiss – that wild, abrupt intimacy - she might have been able to read him better. But he had barricaded his thoughts from her, and those little irrational doubts kept nagging at the edges of her mind like sharp-beaked, pecking birds. _Does he hate me now? Is he repulsed by me? Will we ever be friends again?_

She hadn't told anyone. Not even Vash. "I just wish I knew what he was thinking, ya know?" she said to Vash as she flipped and folded selected robes for their raid. "He can't stand being around me." 

Vash stuck his bottom lip out and blew the bangs out of his eyes, pausing long enough from studying the blueprint to share in her concern. "I think it's more like he can't stand him_self_." 

"Is that what he told you?" 

He grimaced. "Not in words, no. But coming to his senses and finding inner peace are two separate things. He may no longer be under the spell of such delusional theories, but that doesn't mean he can cope with everything he's done." 

"Yeah…" Meryl sighed, still unsure about her place in all this. Still aching for her old comrade back. And still wondering if she hadn't contributed to his current depression by crossing the line. "I suppose I should at least be grateful that he's not crusading around, preaching destruction to humanity, right?" 

"I know that's all _I_ could ask for," Vash said. "He may be miserable, but he's no longer a threat to others, or to himself. I suppose the misery will just have to run its course." 

"Do you think it will?" she asked hopefully. "Run its course, I mean?" 

He paused to study her through narrowed eyes. "This isn't like you, Meryl," Vash said ruefully, coming over to place his hands on her shoulders. "I'm usually the one worrying to _you_ about Knives." 

That caught her off guard. She began to stammer, "Well, I…it's just that… He's ignoring me, and he's never done that before, and…" she felt the blush hit her cheeks. With as much as she wished she could retract the kiss, she couldn't stop herself from reliving it over and over. Even now, the feel of his mouth still haunted her lips. "Anyways," she shoved the last robes in the bag without folding them, and zipped it up, "I, uh…gotta go over the next raid with him before we leave, so—" 

"You love him, don't you?" 

Meryl choked. "Wh-what!?" she asked. "No. Geez! I just…" _Is that what's going on?_ "It's just that we've worked so closely and all," _Is that why I can't stop thinking about him? Why I get butterflies in my stomach every time we're in the same room?_ "And…and…ohwillyoustopgrinning!" 

The corners of his lips kept lifting up, and up, and then he bent down and chased the air from her lungs with a crushing hug, lifting her off the floor. Her feet dangled, kicking and squirming. 

"Honestly, Vash!" she coughed for air, her face smashed in his overcoat. "You're such an adolescent, sometimes." 

"Go on. Admit it!" 

"This is ridiculous," gasp, sputter, "Can't I worry about Knives without you getting all starry-eyed?" 

His voice dropped to an almost whisper. "You can't hide it from me, Meryl. I've lived too long. I know the signs better than anyone." 

She scoffed at the irony of that statement, deciding to let it go. _Only when you're looking for it, boy._ The fight in her petered out, and she went limp in Vash's arms, too confused, distressed and overwhelmed to keep it up any longer. "You idiot. What good would it do me to say it when I've already scared him off forever?" 

He set her down, and his eyes frowned. "What do you mean?" 

Meryl looked down at her feet, and clenched her hands in fists. Might as well fess up. "I kissed him, Vash." 

Vash's eyes bulged. "You…" he shook himself, "you _kissed_ him? Like on the lips?" 

"Yes! On the lips, you dope!" she snapped up. "And stop staring at me like it's so shocking, alright! I'm insecure about it enough as it is!!" 

His hands dropped to his sides, and he took a step back, visibly trying to discipline the surprise from his expression. And failing miserably. "What happened?" 

She began to pace. "It was when he came to. I was already beside myself with relief that he was awake. I hugged him, and then when he told me about my identity – I mentioned that, didn't I? – that he finally confessed that he knew my profile from back on the SEEDs ship?" 

He shook his head slowly, totally stupefied. "No…" 

"Well, he did. Told me my birth name. My birth parents' names, occupations… And I was so overcome with emotion, that…" she dropped her head in her hands. "Heaven help me, Vash. I don't know what came over me." 

Vash blew his breath out in a long whistle. He made a nervous laugh, and ran his hands through his hair. "So…how did he react?" 

She laughed, not because it was funny, but because if she didn't, she might start crying again. "He froze, like a cornered puppy, and has avoided me ever since." 

She was staring at her hands, too embarrassed to look up. After a long pause, Vash asked quietly, "Have you tried talking to him about what happened?" 

"What's there to talk about? He's repulsed by me. I scared him off." 

"He's not repulsed by you. Something is going on, but it's not that. You need to talk to him." 

"But Vash…" 

"I've been watching you two closely over the past couple years. I know what you mean to him, whether he wants to admit it or not. Don't let him shut you out, Meryl. Please. He still needs you." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

She never used to knock, but Meryl couldn't bring herself to barge on into Knives' control room like she used to. She held her hand up, hesitated, and then rapped on the metal door with her knuckles. It was more of a warning, than a request for permission. She waited the customary few seconds and palmed the mechanism that swooshed the door open. 

Her heartbeat quickened when she saw him, leaning over a map, with a pen in one hand, and a mug in the other. Synthetic pants made to look like leather hung off his hips, with a matching similar-hued jacket. White shirt underneath. Hair spiked, face shaven. It was distracting. Everything about him was distracting, lately. The walls could come crumbling down around them, and Meryl imagined she'd have a tough time noticing, so pendant was she on his every move. Or lack thereof. He didn't turn to look at her when she entered, but his shoulders visibly hunched. 

Meryl almost lost her nerve. But they had to discuss the raid. There was no way out of it. "Wanna show me the layout?" 

Her words hung in the silence like the sound of shattered glass. He glanced at the passageway to his right out of reflex, as though gauging the possibilities of escape. Meryl went from nervous to bristling. _Oh, man-up, for crying out loud. You think I'm going to rape you?_

A muscle in his face jumped, and he finally jerked his chin for her to approach. She walked over, and looked studiously at the map. 

He tapped at a blue dot. "The City of Manti only has one angel, and its population has dwindled. Only 200 residents. We will go to build the oasis with Vash within this range, here. And when it's done, we'll retrieve the plant angel." 

Meryl just about fell over. So he'd moved beyond the 'his job/my job' nonsense, eh? _My, how you've changed._

He tapped at a keyboard, and a new map blipped up on the panel of the city streets. "The city is 1200 kilometers away. The generator is at the east end, here. We'll enter there," he said, pointing at a wide-street entrance. "All we need is Bejya. We'll leave in a couple hours." 

He stopped talking, and she shifted uncomfortably. "That's it?" 

Nod. 

"Since it's such a simple trip, why don't we pick up some of the deserted plant angels? There's 11 still alive in that old SEEDs ship—" She saw him scrunch his eyes shut, and she rattled on, "not 70 kilometers from Manti." 

"I'll work on that, and get back to you." Short. Clipped. He was dismissing her. 

She shuffled her feet. "We used to do this together," she said. 

"It doesn't take two." 

Meryl felt her eyes sting, and her throat constrict. Since she wasn't leaving, Knives swiveled in his chair, and got up to walk out. 

"Knives, wait," she cried, hand held out. He kept on walking, and she stomped her foot on the floor. "WAIT!" 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

He stopped, two feet from the door with his back to her, every fiber of his being protesting his strict command to walk away. The control she had over him was still there. It didn't matter how many days or distance he put between them. Her presence still scattered his concentration like a hurricane, still made him _feel_... 

He dug his nails into his palm, his voice taut. "What do you want, Meryl?" 

Her voice cracked. "Isn't it obvious? I want you to stop avoiding me!" 

His heart skipped a beat, and he felt the sting of that indescribable sensation prickle all over his body as she crossed the distance between them and placed herself firmly between him and his escape route. Her eyes had watered, and her teeth clenched. To see her so upset… 

He wasn't prepared for it. 

"What's going _on_, Knives? You won't even _look_ at me anymore!" her voice hitched as the sobs came. "You ignore me, you won't talk to me unless you absolutely have to… It's making me crazy! We were friends, weren't we?" She covered her face with her hands, and then ran them up over her hair in an anguished gesture as water spilled from her reddening eyes. "It's because I kissed you, isn't it? Forgive me, please! I won't do it again. I promise!" 

He cracked. All his carefully placed mental barricades came crashing down; his desperately schooled expression of indifference, melted away. Her face was suddenly in his hands, as he mouthed a slow '_shhhh_', running shakey thumbs along her trembling lips in a clumsy caress. "Don't say that. Don't promise me that…" 

She jolted as she felt it. The vortex of anguish. The self-loathing. And the strong, overwhelming…_joyous_ ache she gave him. Losing it, Knives sank slowly to his knees, his disobedient hands clinging to her in one last desperate touch, sliding down the warm curves of her body until he forced them flat on the hard, cold floor. 

"_I am a killer!_" he choked in a hoarse whisper. "Don't you get it, Meryl!? Your own birth parents were slain by these hands, and against all accountability, I'm supposed to be here..." He buried his head in his arms, and recoiled from the one person who could undermine what little control he had left over his own guilted fate. "I'll live this life, but I can't let myself _enjoy_ it!" 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

With as bad as she wanted to kiss it all away, right then, Meryl wasn't stupid. She knew that no amount of physical intimacy would make him hate himself any less when it was done. His wounds were of the soul; the psychological bandaids he needed, of a different nature. 

So with tremendous difficulty, she straightened her spine, swallowed the lump in her throat, and with a simple and heartfelt, 'I understand now,' she then gave strict orders to get his shit together so they could leave now instead of later. As business-like and proactive as she'd ever been. He needed commands. He needed regiment. A schedule. Black and white actions with black and white results. 

The gray would come in small doses. And with much sneakiness. And then perhaps when he felt better about who he was, they could continue that which was abandoned here, today. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

_The crack in that wall really needs fixing, doesn't it? Look closely. You can see a bug nest webbed inside. Yes. Count them. There must be 40 there!_

Meryl continued to push her will onto the smattering of people who were in the street. Two old men. A woman with her child. The energy plant only had two folks running it. The job was a no-brainer. She saw Knives with his left arm hooked around Bejya's waist, supporting her, while the liberated angel was slung over his right shoulder, walking out of the building. The small jeep they'd used to get here was just yards away. He made eye contact with her. 

_Let's go._

She nodded, and set off after them, walking backwards towards their vehicle. Bejya ambled in exhaustedly in the back seat, and Knives slumped their other sister over her lap, tossing a thick blanket over them both. Meryl made it to the passenger side, and knelt high in the seat with her arms on the headrest, while her mind's eye kept itself trained on the residents. 

Knives swung open the door to his side, got in, grabbed the ignition…and stopped. Several seconds passed, and he didn't move. Meryl glanced at him, noticing the serious, alarmed expression written in his features. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

He pursed his lips, without looking at her. "Stay here," he ordered, and without further explanation, he leapt from the jeep and broke off at a brisk jog down a nearby alley. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

_Fear…_ An impression so potent, he could nearly taste it in the air. Before his epiphany, he dismissed vibes of anxiety he got when they were in human cities, just like he dismissed all human life. Meryl wouldn't have caught it. Not engaged with distracting the locals like she was. He'd had a brief moment of indecision, but his resurrected conscience was too strong. Knives came to a fork, and bolted left. He slowed. It was near. 

There was rustling behind a nearby trashcan, and the wave of terror skyrocketed, hitting him in the face like a sandstorm. He took a step back, shook himself, and hesitantly approached. 

There was some scuffling, followed by a whimper. He edged around the trashcan, and saw a young girl hovering there. By the flat facial profile, and depressed nasal bridge, along with the puffy slant to the eyes and irregular-shaped ears, he quickly assessed that she'd been born with brain damage. She squealed when she saw him, and then looked away as though eye contact was the only way he could see her. She started to rock back and forth, uttering incoherencies. 

Knives was at a loss. Now what? She was terrified of something, and had obviously been hiding. "Where are your parents?" 

Tear smudges marred her Moreno cheeks, and she glanced back at him in fearful suspicion. She couldn't have been more than 10. She said nothing, but his words triggered a memory, which in turn gave his mental probes a visual…of a funeral. A single coffin. _Dead, huh?_

She started to cry, and that's when he noticed a bruise under her left ear, and the finger marks on her arms. Someone had hurt her. 

"Do you have a home?" Knives asked. 

In between sniffles, he thought he saw her nod. The despair and solitude that emanated from her small childlike frame was tremendous. A mental image drew his attention again, of a large, pot-bellied, bearded man… And the incident that made her run away. 

Knives nearly spat in disgust. Her terror had a name. 

Uncle. 

Knives felt an inexplicable anger well up inside of him, and just as he was deciding what to do, a slurred, drunken voice cried out. 

"Kylie! Ya lil wretch! Wh—" belch, "where are ya!?" 

The girl pawed at the ground as though to dig a hole, her cries growing louder. 

Knives stood facing the man, when he staggered around the corner. His stench preceeded him, and when he saw Knives, his glazed eyes narrowed into a sloppy glare. "Who th'hell are ya? Seen a little retarded girl around here?" 

Knives kept his face a mask, his old habits conjuring up murderous thoughts. He reigned them in with a mental curse. Vash had once said he could turn the oven off, but it still took it a while to cool down. And unfortunately for this man, he'd caught Knives in the cooling down mode. He still had a thousand old habits that weren't quite broken. "Is your niece the only child you're molesting? Or are there others?" he asked with acidic calm. 

The grungy man stepped back, his jaw dropping. Then he pathetically tried to regain his composure. "What the...! Bullshit talk you sayin'!?" But his own memories betrayed him as Knives picked up on a mental slideshow of faces, instances, and cries of a good dozen more victims. Knives wasn't sure what he was going to do with the girl, but he _was_ sure what he'd do with 'Uncle.' 

"And I assume you'll continue?" 

"Wha...!? You wanna die, boy!?" 

Knives cracked his knuckles, and feathers erupted as his angel arm transformed into a blade. The man fell back as Knives advanced, speaking through his teeth. "Then I guess it can't be helped." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

_Where the hell is he?_ Meryl thought in a growing unease, her attention being divided between her duty and that narrow alley. Just as she considered going after him, she saw his tall, stiff-gaited form heading towards her from the direction he'd left in. 

She squinted against the blaring sun. _What's that in his arms?_ He moved quickly, and Meryl almost lost all her concentration when he got close enough for her to make it out. 

"A child!?" she gaped. Bejya made a startled noise from behind, as she in turn noticed. 

Knives reached the car, and hurriedly swung the door open and plunked down in the driver's seat with the girl in his lap. She was clinging to him and whimpering, her shoulder-length brunette hair hiding most of her face. 

Bejya leaned forward. "Knives, what are you…?" 

He started the jeep, his take off slamming both Meryl and Bejya back into their seats. His face was set, and his agitation, palpable. "She's coming with us." 

Meryl kept up her brainwash over the few residents until they were half a kilometer away. Then she gave Knives and the girl her full attention. It was then that she saw the red blotches on his angel arm. 

"Is that blood?" 

He didn't answer. 

"What happened?" 

"The girl's mother is dead, and her uncle was a pedophile." 

Meryl gulped. "_Was_?" 

"Was." 

She studied him, a knot growing in her stomach. _No. It's not possible. After everything he's been through, there's no way he'd take another human life._

"Calm the hell down, Meryl. I didn't kill him." 

Bejya leaned forward from the back seat and pointed at the blood on his arm. "Then what's _that_ from?" 

"I castrated him." 

"Oh, shit." Meryl felt the blood drain from her face as she sank in the chair. She looked at the girl. Then she looked at Knives. _And you did it in front of the child?_

His eyes widened a fraction and he gulped. He glanced sideways at the girl's crown in apparent worry, then he frowned at Meryl defensively. 

"It's not like I had time to premeditate any of this!" 

She rubbed her brow. Bejya piped in. "Was there any other family? Anyone who will miss her?" 

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Knives snapped. "She's…" he bit his tongue, and sent the next part mentally. _She has a cerebral handicap. I couldn't get her to talk, and it's not like I had time to wait for her to get comfortable around me._

Meryl marveled at him, going over everything that just happened. Knives must have felt the girl's fear as they were taking off. But that he went after her all on his own was remarkable. Not only that, but after saving her from her predator, he couldn't bring himself to leave her there for a neighbor to find. So he decided to bring her home. 

She shook her head. His progress was a 180 from how he used to be. If the girl hadn't been in his lap, she imagined she probably would have leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. 

_Knives…_

_What!?_ he snapped, and then realized both Meryl and Bejya were smiling at him. He blushed, and kept his eyes forward. _If you both keep gloating like that, then I'll drop her off right here._

"You did the right thing, Knives." 

_Feh._

Deciding to behave, Meryl faced forward and folded her arms across her chest, forcing her grin straight. She knew he wouldn't do it. And damn it all if she didn't love him all the more for it.

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

Their mission was done. The very last plant angel had been freed. The past two days had been filled with much celebration and laughter, as everyone involved enjoyed their much-earned vacation. The reaching of such an immense goal was almost euphoric, just barely simmering down into what-do-we-do-now? 

Of course, _Meryl_ knew exactly what they were going to do now. Or more specifically, Vash and Knives - which is why Vash was seeking his brother out at the moment. 

His self-punishment was starting to infringe on Vash's free agency. 

"Yo, Knives!" Vash waved vigorously as he barged into the well-lit, private atrium, catching his brother leaning casually against a tree with his arms folded across his chest. It hadn't been difficult to track him down. Knives spent most of his time here. He didn't say it outright, but Vash was certain he was still hopelessly exiling himself from Meryl. 

And Meryl's one priority at the moment was to fix that. 

Knives didn't bother to glance up, his seemingly bored, detached expression betrayed by an uncharacteristic twinkle in his icy stare. 

_Meryl was right,_ Vash thought guardedly, not surprised to find a certain little girl sitting just a few feet away, with a pen fisted in one chubby hand, and a notepad in the other. _Our Kylie seems to lift his spirits._

Her brunette hair was piggy-tailed, and Milly had dressed her in a cute white-laced sundress which was now smudged with dirt. She blinked at him with a still pseudo-apprehensive expression. Vash had always had a special connection with children, but he admittedly had a tough time getting this one to warm up to him…which was odd, considering she adored Knives, who was about as generous with his hugs and smiles as a marble statue. 

He nodded hello to Kylie, who shied from his presence, and quirked his head at Knives. "So…about that trip we're supposed to go on—" 

Knives held a finger to his lips, and frowned at Vash. Then wordlessly, he jerked his chin at the girl's notepad. She eyed Vash warily as he bent over and scrunched his eyes. There was a good amount of scribbling going on. "So you've taken to drawing, eh? Good for you, kiddo!" Vash said exuberantly as he squatted down and reached over to ruffle her hair when Knives collared him back, with a mental reprimand that scorched Vash's inner ears. 

_Idiot. Don't invade her personal space. If she wants to make physical contact with you, then let HER do the initiating._

_But Meryl and Milly…and our sisters…_

_Are female._

_Oh…_ With a mental thwap, Vash grinned stupidly down at the wary child. "What a lovely picture! I wish I could draw half as well—" 

"Picture?" Knives asked incredulously. "What do you mean, 'picture'?" 

"Uh…" 

"Look again." 

Vash did as told. And he saw…scribbles. He shrugged sheepishly, and Knives rolled his eyes and came to the rescue. "It's her _name_," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Vash's eyes widened. "Her name?" 

Knives pushed off the tree, and knelt down next to her, pointing out the hardly defined lines. "KY – LI – E." He looked up at Vash, an underlying pride shining through his irritation. Vash couldn't see the letters to save his life, but something far more important was going on here. 

"You taught her this?" 

Knives ignored his question and looked back at the girl, eyes crinkling just the slightest. "Watch this," he said to Vash, and then took the pen from her and wrote down five single-digit numbers in big bold strokes. "Is there a 4 in this group, Kylie?" 

Abruptly shy, she hesitated. 

"It's okay. Go on," Knives urged. 

She gradually focused all her concentration on the paper. After several seconds, she raised her brow questioningly at her mentor. "N-no?" 

It was slight – Vash might have missed it had he not been gawking, but the corners of Knives' lips actually raised a hair. He had smiled. Actually smiled. "Correct. There is no number 4 in this group. Now…is there a number 2?" 

She frowned at the paper again. It was absolutely adorable, Vash decided, how serious she looked when she was trying to concentrate. After a moment she gasped with all the excitement of discovery and shoved her finger into the paper over the number 2, and nodded. 

"Bien hecho, Kylie," Knives affirmed. Vash recognized the phrase. It was one Rem had used often, whenever they accomplished something. He wondered how much of their foster mother's influence had crept back into Knives' mannerisms since the catalyst. He smiled, keeping the thoughts to himself. 

Knives stood back up, looking at Vash expectantly. Vash exhaled in an honest chuckle, and shook his head. 

"Yes. That's amazing. Truly, it is." Though he wasn't sure what was more remarkable – that she'd picked that up in a matter of days, or that Knives had had enough patience to teach her. Kylie grinned hugely and covered her face with her hands. Then after a few giggles, she routinely tried to emulate the numbers Knives had written down. 

The brothers stood in quiet amusement as they watched her, and a comfortable silence fell. Vash stole a sidelong glance at his brother, who seemed oblivious of the change. _I wonder if he's even aware of what's happening to him…_

"I think she was being protected," Knives said under his breath as he tenderly watched his star pupil. 

"Protected? Back in Manti?" 

Knives shook his head impatiently. "No. I mean...there's a hidden greatness about her, Vash. Can't you feel it? It's like whoever she was before birth was so heroic and good, that whatever powers were in charge of placing her soul made sure it would go in a body that could never be capable of corruption, or true sin. To protect her spirit until it could return." His eyes grew distant. "Whole and unblemished." 

"Knives…" Vash couldn't stop from staring. It was so religious, the commentary almost didn't compute. "Do you…really feel that way?" 

He shrugged. "There's something there, Vash. I can sense it when I try to read her mind." He grew more pensive, his thoughts wandering elsewhere besides the room they were in. "I wonder if that's the case with all those who are born forever children." 

"You mean those who are handicapped?" 

Nod. 

"Wow…" Vash shook his head in bewilderment. Who was he to doubt him? Considering a pre-existence, and a post-existence, and fates of all life, it _did_ make a unique sort of sense. And the observation, so noble… "Then you probably don't mind the assignment Meryl has lined up for you." 

Even mentioning her name was like throwing water in his brother's face. Knives quickly regained composure and snorted. "You mean the one where she wants us to systematically comb through oasis after oasis on an impossible charity erand, seeking out the abandoned and afflicted, easing their woes?" 

"Yeah." 

"That bossy woman thinks too big." 

"Yeah." Vash eyed his brother with a sarcastic smirk. "Remember how she actually thought you and I could work together to free every single plant angel on this planet?" Vash rolled his eyes and threw his head back in an over-exaggerated gesture. "Keh! Such nonsense." 

Knives glared at him, but it wasn't a serious glare. "Don't mock me." Then he grew more pensive, his voice quiet. "I know what she's doing, Vash." 

Vash's mouth opened to give a reflexive response, and then reconsidered. "I had wondered," he smiled ruefully, and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "But you'll go regardless…" It was more a statement than a question. 

Knives scoffed. "Could you imagine what she'd do to me if I said no?" 

"No kidding. She'd probably corner you in one of these rooms." 

"Hn." 

"And talk to you." 

"Shut up." 

"She might even touch you—_umph_!" Vash's words were cut short by a sharp elbow jab to his ribs. He recovered, half-laughing with his arms wrapped around his abdomen. Knives stood casually, as though his arms had been folded the entire time. Vash leaned on his shoulder to straighten. "You know, between Meryl and Milly, they have a written down response for almost every situation one would come across on this new project. If they're broken, fix them, if they're unjustly persecuted, relocate them, if they're abandoned, bring them home…" 

Knives feigned indifference. 

Vash sighed. "It's too many rules for me to memorize…" 

Indifference shifted to suspicion, and he eyed Vash skeptically. "What are you up to?" 

_Your soul is healing whether you realize it or not, brother. In which case, it's time you stopped shutting her out,_ he thought to himself, quickly deciding that subtlety was a better policy. With his hands clasped behind his back, Vash strode nonchalantly over to a large, spacious window. "I don't feel like going." 

_That_ got Knives' attention. "What do you mean you don't feel like going? We're just starting with one of the populated oases. We'll be there and back in a few days." 

Vash shrugged, as though it were no big deal, and turned to wink at him. "Meryl's the one who came up with the idea, and you're the one who seems to have the heart for it. Makes sense to me that the two of you go by yourselves." 

Knives paled. "Meryl's staying here. She said she was." 

Vash raised his brow as though he were an insider to some great secret. "Well…" 

"Vash," Knives said, taking a few terse steps in his direction. "You don't understand—" 

Vash grew serious. "You're willing to help the masses, but when it comes to filling a void in the heart of the one woman on this planet who actually loves you—" 

The atmosphere changed the second the words left his mouth. Knives transitioned rapidly from panicked to defensive to...something else. He pursed his lips, and eyed Vash knowingly. "You mean the void left by _you_?" 

Vash startled. Of all the directions this conversation could go, he hadn't anticipated... 

"She spent _years_ pining after you, you dolt," Knives berated. "Don't tell me you never noticed." 

Vash bowed his head, and started fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. "I...noticed." 

Knives' eyes widened just a fraction and then narrowed back to normal. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You feign density better than anyone I've ever met." 

Vash exhaled in a light chuckle, and then a tense pause followed. He knew what was coming. And he readied himself for it. Knives shifted, finally letting his inevitable curiosity show itself. He didn't even bother to cover it up. 

"If you _knew_…then why didn't you…_ever_…?" 

"Return her affections?" Vash's smiled wistfully and looked out the window at some random point on the horizon. Nostalgia washed over him like an old dream as he reflected on that pivotal time, years ago, when he'd thought she was in danger of becoming a pawn in Knives' plans. His realization of how he felt about her in that moment had been so overwhelming, he could barely calm his heart down enough to breathe. 

And he recalled with a bittersweet melancholy how he turned right around and gave it all up when he saw the look in her eyes, as she expressed faith in his malevolent, unreachable sibling. Trading it all in for a nearly lost hope… "Because I wanted my brother back," he whispered, too emotional for voice. "If I would have taken all she had to give, then she wouldn't have had enough love left for you." 

Vash pushed off the window and walked over to clasp a firm hand over the right shoulder of his blue-eyed twin, who was too stupefied by the information to even respond. He looked at Knives solemnly. "I have no regrets, brother. Just be happy."

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

**Chapter 16**

"…and so I figure that in the Southern Feb oases, the same family will be doing the foster care work. It won't be any-less needed, that's for sure. The den mother was pretty organized, back when I was assigned to assess the risk of their facility, before I met your brother. But despite all their efforts, kids there still turn into delinquents from lack of love…" Meryl chatted in a forced casual tone, as she thumbed through her itinerary, squinting against the gusting desert air. 

She stole a quick glance at the driver of the jeep, to see if his distant, troubled expression had changed. Knives' collar was up to his ears, only a portion of his wind-burned face being visible, and that portion didn't show any sign of even hearing her. He stared like he had been for the past hour and a half, unfocussed at some random point ahead, hands reflexively steering as though his body were in auto-pilot. Meryl sighed inwardly, and looked back down at her schedule. 

What was he thinking about that made him so unreachable? 

She hadn't anticipated that Vash would make her go on his behalf. He was adamant that her presence would make this little 'anecdote' for Knives' inner peace no less effective. She eventually believed him, and figured that at most Knives would feel awkward with her along. Incommunicable. Even distressed. 

But not shell-shocked. 

Whatever was roiling around in his brain left him nearly catatonic. It was like his progression towards inner peace over the past couple months had come to a screeching halt. _It can't be just me. Us. Alone, like this._ she rationalized crazily. _He's acting too weird. There has to be something more to it…_ Meryl cleared her throat, carrying on with the one-sided conversation, simply because she didn't know what else to do. "…Once there, after meeting with them, I can comb through one side of the community and you could comb through the other—" 

Suddenly, something _did_ catch his attention. His eyes widened. He swore, coming to life. Meryl watched in growing unease as he sat up in his seat, frowning in alarm at the panel, to the desert, back to the panel… 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"Storm. A sand storm. Heading right for us." 

Her head swiveled forward, and she squinted at the horizon. The sun-baked mirage warbled several kilometers away, and above it - yellow sky. She frowned. "A storm? I don't..." The mirage lurched, and the sliver of movement she believed to be a part of its illusion, grew. It burst through the mirage like a stampede, the vagueness now taking shape. She gulped, and adrenaline heightened her senses as she observed the large expanse of the rolling tempest, to the east, the west. "Oh…Oh no--" 

He swore again. 

"I thought you…checked the weather," she rambled. "You always check the weather." 

"I forgot." 

She gaped at him. "You forgot…" 

_Damn you, Vash,_ she heard him swear internally, not even bothering to cover it up. 

Meryl raised a hand to her lips, wondering crazily what in the world Vash had to do with Knives' forgetting. She shelved the question for later, hugely intimidated by the issue at hand. The approaching wave of unearthed desert and vicious winds had just seemed to cover a mile in the last few seconds. Twice the size in her peripheral vision. She'd heard of sandstorms this big, burying entire communities under 15 feet of gravel. There were at least four files of such catastrophes archived in the Bernardelli Insurance company's basement…but she'd never actually witnessed one. It was going to be on them in a matter of minutes, and it was huge. "Can we outrun it in the jeep?" she asked hopelessly. 

"No. It can't be outrun." Knives scanned their surroundings proactively, and then slammed on the breaks. The jeep slowed to an abrupt stop, and with the engine killed, they could actually hear the rumbling, crescendoing sounds of the approaching disaster. The ground was even shaking. Meryl's palms began to sweat. Another mile. Crossed. 

She felt ill. "It'll be on us in a matter of seconds…" 

Not answering, Knives hopped out of the vehicle with a determined expression, and dropped to his knees, slamming his fists into the sand. Energy started to radiate and crackle about him, his face showing visible signs of straining... 

_He's trying to raise a barrier_, she realized, as the gravel in front of him adhered to itself like a forming stalagmite, becoming rock, and raising out of the ground like a small geyser. It shadowed them quickly, speckled with holes. 

"Slant it, Knives, or the pressure will just tip it over on top of us!" 

He grunted, and the forming rock wall angled sharply. Almost too sharply. There was no time for perfection. Granules propelled by the 100-mile winds started pelting her face, and arms. The blue sky above them darkened, eclipsed by airborne particles. Meryl hissed and tried to cover herself, too scared to worry about her dignity. "Knives!" 

"Get out of the jeep!" he shouted. 

She reacted immediately, trying to push the door open against the air pressure, but it resisted. Assessing danger was her job, but the force of this natural element was beyond her experience. She squinted through the sand to see Knives frantically motion for her to join him with one hand while the other was still erecting the shelter. There was only a few yards between them, but it suddenly seemed like miles. 

_How am I going to reach him in time!?_

Her stomach flipping with anxiety, Meryl tried climbing over the door, foolishly squaring her shoulders to the winds in the process – but they caught her with a vengeance, and ripped her out of the jeep, tossing her in a dizzying vortex away from her safety. It stole her breath. She faded before she could even scream. 

She didn't know what happened next, but when she came to, a heavy weight was on top of her. In the post-faint dizziness, she panicked, thinking she'd been buried. But then she felt the coarse spikiness of hair against her cheek, the feel of arms hooked under her own, bracing her down. The weight coughed. 

_Kn…Knives!_

He was trying to protect her. The immense pressure of the wind against her crown and shoulders told her that they were perpendicular against the storm, and amidst the deafening howling, there were muffled sounds of forming rock. Churning gravel. Labored breathing puffed against her left ear, and claustrophobia set in as a rock cocoon crept up on both sides and enveloped them in darkness and copious amounts of sand. 

It was a shelter, but it felt like a coffin. 

The suffocating proximity, the overwhelming force of mother nature, the flashback of being plucked from the jeep as though she had no more substance than a feather… Meryl turned her face against his neck, and clutched at his shoulders. 

"You're conscious…" he huffed in residual panic, as tense as the encasement around them. "Are you—are you—?" 

"Scared," she uttered, scrunching her stinging eyes shut. "I'm scared." 

He exhaled what seemed to be relief, and his body grew heavy as it relaxed. Shelter finished. "We'll be fine." 

"But…what if we're buried? What if we run out of air? What if the weight of the sand above us crushes this little shelter? What if--?" 

"Meryl," he soothed with a trace of the arrogance that she almost forgot he had, "You forget who you're with." 

She almost laughed, but it came out a whimper. The sand washed over their cocoon like the feet of a thousand scuttling beetles. What must have only been minutes seemed like hours to Meryl, as time and time again, they were dislodged from their spot, rolling maddeningly until Knives would anchor them by sprouting jagged spikes from the rocky surface of their hastily-made protection. The wind was knocked from her lungs by his weight, and her head spun but Meryl held her tongue and her screams, allowing him all the concentration she could. 

The last upheaval had landed her on top of him. He'd had at least one arm around her this entire time to keep from crushing her when they rolled. Under different circumstances she would have relished in this forced closeness, but at the moment, she was too frightened to even feel awkward or shy. 

She blinked largely against the blackness, her fingers entwined tightly in Knives'shirt beneath his jacket. Meryl listened breathlessly as the sounds of the storm grew muffled. He reached around her and palmed the top of their encasement. 

"Is it…is it leaving?" she whispered. 

"Not yet." 

"Then why…?" She stopped, gulped and gasped. "Ah! We're buried!" 

"Yes," he said, and then at her noticeable panic dropped his hand to cradle her head against his chest. _Relax,_ he sent telepathically. _…or you'll use up an hour's worth of oxygen in just a few minutes._

Shaking, she inhaled a shuddering breath and forced her body to go malleable, concentrating on the even, heavy thump of Knives' heartbeat against her cheek. How could he be so calm? He ruffled her hair for reassurance, the earlier awkwardness gone for the simple fact that she desperately needed his protection. 

_The sandstorm shouldn't last much longer, and if I think we're in danger of getting too deep, then I'll create a crater and excavate us out. Alright?_ He sent. 

She nodded reflexively. It was hard to let go of her anxiety, but she gradually became distracted. He left his arms around her, fostering a sense of security and even…even…_tenderness_? It dawned on her now that they'd stopped rolling, that there was enough room in the cocoon to be side by side. But neither moved to situate that arrangement. 

Pushing the claustrophobia to the edges of her awareness, Meryl forced her fingers to unclench from his shirt, and instead dared to slide them down the inside his jacket, and around his ribs. He tensed for only a second and then relaxed, running his hand from her hair to her lower back. A small fraction of the anxiety and tension ebbed out of her shoulders, and she closed her eyes. 

If only their lives weren't threatened… 

_I…I think it's leaving, _he sent after a few moments, almost reluctantly. Her skin tingled where his hand had been when he lifted it to once again palm the inside of the cocoon. _Yes. It's gone._ His other arm uncurled from around her and she made to get up, when he bracketed her back against him. _Hold on. Tight. Are you ready?_

Nervousness made her cling, and she dreaded what was coming next. _Yeah…_

_Then here we go._ Every muscle in his body tensed, to the point where she felt like she was gripping a rock. A distant rumbling was heard through the shell of the cocoon, accompanied by the hiss of shifting sand. It got closer, and closer until the sounds of moving terrain echoed in their shell. _Close your eyes,_ Knives sent, and even telepathically, she could feel his exhaustion. 

He worked his alchemy to dissolve a hole in the top. She gasped as sand abruptly fell on them, bombarded again by hallucinations of being buried, but it was only residual sand, and stopped quickly. The air hit her back. In one sudden move, Knives sat them up and swung her up in his arms, leaping out of the crater. 

He landed in a practiced crouch on the perimeter of where they'd been buried, with Meryl's body folded protectively against his. He waited several seconds, unmoving until her heartbeat had slowed. "We're safe, Meryl." 

"I know…" She wasn't ready to let go of him yet, and was unsurprised to feel her hands cramp up from gripping his jacket so hard. "Thank you, Knives…" She meant it. If he hadn't of jumped out after her… 

"You…thought I'd let the storm take you?" 

"I didn't have time to think anything." 

"Are you okay?" 

"I have sand in my eyes." 

She pulled back and tried to open them, but the tiny granules were abrasive. He helped her to stand to her feet, and dusted off her shoulder. "You have sand everywhere." 

She squinted up at him. The golden dust layered every feature, dimming his hair and making his face look like the side of a cliff. If it weren't for those prisms of electric blue light he had for eyes, then the guy might have been a statue. If she looked even half as bad… "We…we can't go anywhere like this." Just when the idea occurred to her to go back, he jerked his chin to the west. 

"The water table is close to the surface over there. I can make us a small oasis." 

Meryl considered. It beat back tracking almost two hours, just to do the same thing. "But what about the jeep?" 

He turned and scanned the area behind them. "When I abandoned the shelter to get you, I heard it fall over the jeep. As long as it wasn't crushed, it should be fine. The sand shouldn't have penetrated the enclosed areas of the engine. Let's go get it." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Knives lost himself in thought as he drove the two miles to the spot where he knew he could raise a small pool. After erecting two shelters, and fighting the storm to save Meryl, he'd then turned around and excavated both them and the jeep out of the sand. It had been a tremendous amount of work. 

He was exhausted. 

And exhaustion made it hard to control his thoughts. He tried hard to hide it from her, but the scare it gave him when she had been plucked from the jeep by those insane winds had been one of the more terrifyingly poignant moments of his long life. His gut had dropped, and his heart lurched in his throat at the sight, instinct making him abandon everything to go save her. And it took longer than he would dare admit. 

The sand hurricanes had tossed him about as well, and he had to transform his angel arm into massive arched blades just to navigate until he caught her rolling, unconscious body. Then he dug them into the terrain, and by the time he was back to normal, she had come to. 

At that point, he knew she'd be safe, but even remembering the moment made his insides turn. Her life had never been truly in danger before and the effect it had on him was…strong. He banished the thoughts of what might have happened had he lost her, focusing instead on the living, breathing woman in the passenger seat next to him. 

She was dirty and disheveled, her hair and clothes dusty and full of sand. But that familiar spark of intensity had already started to emanate again from her aura. Even in this state, his heart still lurched when he looked directly at her. And after holding her like that in the darkness, feeling her fear, her curvy weight against him, her warmth…suddenly all his logic about not deserving her seemed inadequate…that these feelings he had were far more powerful and significant than any amount of punishment he inflicted on himself. 

He gave himself a mental thwack. _I have to tell her about him, first--_

"What are those metal jags sticking up out of the sand?" Meryl asked, a hand over her inflicted eye as they drove. Her words broke his trance, and when she turned to him, he quickly focused his attention ahead. 

The platinum scraps littered the landscape like warped tombstones...demented mementos reaching out like hungry children to the stratosphere that had betrayed them. "They're…the remnants of an old SEEDs ship that didn't survive the atmospheric pressure. Its debris is buried all around this area." 

"Oh…" 

An old tinge flared, and he grimaced it away. Fortunately they arrived at the surface area and he stopped the jeep before memories of the Great Fall debilitated him further. 

He was already weak enough. 

She hopped out after him. "Knives…shouldn't you rest first? You've done so much…" 

Yes. He should rest, but for as tired as his body was, his mind was still in a whirlwind. If he could just wear himself out a little more, then his brain would _have_ to shut down. "I'll rest after I erect the oasis." 

He ignored her outstretched hand and protesting words and crouched in the sand, palming the hot granules. He began the rigorous process, tapping into the water source below, and creating a circulating funnel for it to rise. He sunk the terrain. He found indigenous seedlings far far underground and sprouted some foliage for shade and oxygen. He was trembling, and it sucked every last drop of energy he had. Several minutes later, they had a small pond, no more than ten feet wide and three feet deep, and close to its completion, he collapsed outright and rolled right into it. 

"Knives!" 

The cool liquid enveloped his body with a more soothing than shocking feel, and he pushed sluggishly against it, his awareness fading to the recesses of his mind. Everything was a distant echo…a frantic splashing, Meryl's panicked and angry words, and the phantom feel of her small but determined hands under his armpits, heaving him out. 

He could hear her chatting wildly as she pulled him onto the sandy bank, no doubt some lecture. Cupped water was brought to his lips and despite his lethargy, he did drink. And drink. And drink. When finished, Knives tried to mumble an apology as his head lolled to the side. His consciousness was swallowed up in the oblivion of slumber, a last fading thought informing him that he had indeed gone too far. 

He would be out for at least half a day. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Oddly enough the bath in the oasis left her feeling more exhausted than alive. She'd taken a good thirty minutes, submerging herself, scrubbing the sand from her body and hair, taking the liquid in until her belly was full… Yet she'd emerged from the pond more groggy and achy than when she'd entered it. 

_Must be the post-trauma nerves after that crazy sandstorm…_

She had mild discomfort changing right there, but Knives was completely unconscious. More so than when he'd freed Angela all those years ago. Being familiar with the angels' genetic makeup, she assumed he'd be like that for hours. _I told you not to push it,_ she thought, but the spark of irritation died down almost immediately. 

He looked so peaceful. With fresh clothes on, and still-damp hair, Meryl tiptoed over to where she'd hauled him out, blanketed by the shade of some meager tenderlings that he'd grown along the edge of the water. They wouldn't last a week out here on this terrain, but for now they served their purpose. 

She knelt down beside him, and her surreptitious glancing turned to outright gazing. The last time she got to watch him while he was unconscious, he was caught up in the throes of unspeakable torments; clenched teeth, hands clutching at the sheets, muffled whimpers and cries… It was agonizing just to look at him then. But now, his expression was relaxed, his breathing was deep and calm, he looked so young… The effect of observing him elicited an entirely different reaction. 

She hesitated, and then ignored her reservations. _He's out. I can stare all I want._

Lingering eyes indulged her, taking in the familiar contours of his radiant face, so softened and childlike in this state. It was almost like seeing him for the first time. Solid, thick hairline, wide-set almond eyes, narrow nose, sensual mouth, and a tall, athletic body… _Egads, you're beautiful, Knives,_ she thought with a blush, taken aback by the abrupt butterflies in her stomach. _It's a good thing you were a jerk for so long, or I might have been too tongue-tied to even talk to you,_ she thought, imagining how it would have been if she'd just seen a guy like that walking down the street. 

_Definitely too tongue-tied…_

Funny how the physical attributes were so overshadowed by his personality, she mused. _Especially such a two-fisted personality. _

He shifted. 

She jumped, and then calmed. _It's a dream. He can't be waking up already. It hasn't even been an hour, yet!_ She forced herself to stay put, and that's when she noticed something strange. Her pupils had finally adjusted to the shade, and what she assumed was just a miraged aftereffect of seeing the sun reflect off the water for so long was something else entirely. Meryl reached out to touch his face. _My word. His skin…_

A faint golden aura, not half an inch deep was radiating off his body. Meryl leaned over him to look more closely, now alarmed. She'd seen the plant angels light up before, but it was only when they were recharging each other after a raid. And in those times it was always less subtle, and more electric. 

_This_ was different. She was inclined to wake him up, but didn't have to. Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open with a post-sleep puffiness, but definitely blue and alert. He blinked up at her in mild surprise at her proximity to his face. 

"Knives," she breathed in alarm, rubbing her thumb along the skin of his cheek pointedly. "What's happening to you?" 

But he misinterpreted her closeness, her urgency, her words… 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

"What's happening to you?" 

There was no time to collect his thoughts, no time to premeditate his actions. No time to even get his bearings on how he ended up outside with wet clothes, in the sand. He opened his eyes and there she was, touching him. Leaning over him. Asking him point blank what was ailing his soul. 

"Meryl…" he breathed, noticing her expression and assuming it was because of his stubborn, incommunicable nature over the past several months. "I've worried you…" 

Her brow knotted over soulful lavender eyes, and she tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth, and nodded. Her wet obsidian hair flopped over a soft-skinned shoulder with the movement, blanketing him with the clean, post-bath scents that clung to her body. For some reason, it made the inches between them seem like far too great a distance. 

"I'm sorry," he said, battling an abrupt captivation. In the fog between slumber and awake, he forgot what his reservations were, and a decision so tough to make was suddenly made. She spent years loving his brother, and now knowing the sacrifice that Vash had made on his behalf…giving her up so that he might have a chance at tranquility… 

Knives cursed inwardly, hating what he was about to do. But in this new life of honesty and altruism, it was the only choice. 

A confused expression crossed her face and she started to straighten, but he reflexively placed his hand over hers before she could withdraw it. There was a surprised intake of breath. Her eyes widened, and she flushed… One tug, and she'd be his… 

"Vash," he stammered, before his lost his will to even give her the choice she deserved. "Vash loved you." 

Meryl froze. Her body was rigid, her expression unreadable. An awkward silence followed. Knives began second guessing his timing, when she scrunched her pretty face in confusion, and shook her head as though to clear her hearing. "What…what did you say?" 

"He loved you. The only reason he never acted on his sentiments was because he wanted to reserve you for _me…_" 

She went from baffled to nervously apprehensive, searching him as though trying to decipher the intent behind the words. 

"It's the truth," he said. 

She mutely closed her eyes and began to rub her temples as though battling the onset of a headache. 

Knives forced the rest of his confession out before he lost the nerve. It wouldn't be fair to Vash or Meryl if he kept quiet. "And you need to know that the reason I manipulated you along in the first place was so that I could use you to destroy Vash. I was going to exploit your kind-hearted nature to harm humanity, and prove to my brother once and for all that his ideals were unfounded." 

Her fingers moved to her brow, and she bowed her head, hiding her face. Her voice was choked. Almost a whisper. "Why are you telling me this?" 

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You have rid this planet of its villain, Meryl," he said passionately, pointing to his chest. "I don't need to be revolutionized now. You could be with him. I'll be fine." 

Her face shot up, eyes tearing. She gaped at him as though he'd just stabbed her in the gut. Knives leaned back, alarmed. He hadn't anticipated— 

"You'd be fine?" she said through clenched teeth, and stood to her feet. "You'd be FINE!? What am I - a hot potato!? Do I mean that little to both of you that you could pawn me off so easily??" 

"N-no," he stammered. How could she even question how much she meant to him? "It's…it's not like that." 

"You just told me that I've served my purpose! Like a used tool for the discard!" 

He choked. "I...That's now how I—" 

She ripped at her hair, tugging it away from her face. "You're so frustrating! BOTH of you are!" The water in her eyes spilled over. "Do my feelings matter at all?" 

His chest ached. "What are your feelings? What do you want?" he asked, readying himself for the answer… 

She fisted her sides, and stomped her feet, two seconds away from kicking him. "YOU!" she shouted, and then spun around. 

"M-me?" 

"GAH!" 

The release of intense emotion was so great right then, Knives thought his heart might burst from relief. _Me… _he reassured himself. _She wants me._ A lingering regret and unpaid debt to his brother nagged at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it back. _Screw altruism. Vash coped with this a long time ago. If he has no regrets then neither will I._

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Her heart hurt so bad, she didn't even have words for it. First to go through two years of rejection by Vash, only to fall in love with his brother and face the same thing. _I hate this. My emotions aren't a game of bad mittennn—_"mmph!" 

The breath was crushed from her lungs as two long arms wrapped around her from behind, and lifted her off the ground in…in… 

_A hug,_ she realized with mixed feelings. _He's hugging me._

She felt the pressure of his brow as he pressed it against the back of her head, holding her against him affectionately. "And being with _me_ will make you happy?" he asked in a choked whisper. 

Another set of residual tears rolled down her cheeks as she suddenly understood. "Yes." 

"Good," he breathed. "I'm glad." 

Meryl sniffled and wiped her eyes, her frustration melting away. "Idiot," she scolded softly. "Why did you even ask?" 

"It doesn't matter now." 

To her surprise, he spun her around, grabbed her face in both hands, and kissed her. And kissed her and kissed her… The intimate warmth stole any remaining coherency from her mind. Hypersensitivity to his touch flooded her senses; the tangy warmth and wetness of his lips, the way his hands shuddered as they fell to hold her waist and hips, the dampness and folds of their clothes smashed between them... 

The thrill overshadowed the initial learning curve. Her head lolled back and he nuzzled her neck. Her legs gave out, and he lifted her against him. 

"I…I love you Knives," she breathed, her tear ducts leaking with the confession. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. "I love you…" 

He stiffened, and then he brought trembling hands up to cradle her face, kissing her mouth three times before pulling back to look at her. Meryl's eyes fluttered open, and her breath caught. There wasn't a trace. Not one…of angst, regret, self-loathing, inner conflict… Just half-lidded sapphire eyes crinkled in a contented warmth. His mouth opened and closed twice in unformed words, then his brow lifted in the center in a sort of elated disbelief. 

Knives was happy. And when he was happy, he was breath-taking. She suddenly felt shy and ridiculously inadequate, wondering how in the world she landed herself a guy like _this_. "That," she said through the haze of their chemistry, forcing her abrupt shyness into an eager grin, "is an expression I want to see on your face more often." 

He exhaled in a light laugh. "I think you're going to." He rested his forehead against her brow, and then grew rueful. "I'm sorry it took me so long to let you see it." 

"It's okay." She leaned forward to kiss him again, and then hesitated. In that half second before the attraction carried them away again, right before her eyes closed, a knot of unease formed in her chest, interrupting the bliss, leaving her with the impression that there was something important she'd forgotten. 

He paused. "What is it?" he asked, sensing her alarm. 

And then she noticed it. It wasn't as obvious in the sunlight as it was in the shade, but with the onset of dusk, she saw it again…the hue of his skin against the darkening sky. "Knives," she said, pulling back and touching his face. "You're glowing." 

He smirked. 

"No. Not metaphorically. Your skin. It's glowing." 

He frowned confusion at her, and stepped back, holding his hand up between them, looking at it in perplexed inquiry. The tranquility left his expression and the moment was ruined as he in turn noticed what she was talking about. Meryl half-regretted bringing it up, but it wasn't normal. She was concerned. 

"I noticed it right before you woke up," she explained. "What does it mean?" 

He shook his head mutely, and narrowed his eyes as he lifted his shirt, his pant leg, his sleeve, all to see faintly glowing skin. "How…how long was I out for?" 

"20 minutes." 

His head shot up, and he gaped disbelief at her. "20 minutes?" 

Nod. 

"I…I thought I'd been out sixteen hours. I _should_ have been out sixteen hours." He noticed the dampness of his clothes, and pinched the material of his shirt between his fingers. "So this wetness is from when I initially fell into the pond? You hadn't been dousing me off and on?" 

She shook her head slowly. 

Knives turned his head and stared at the pond, stared back at his hand, stared back at the pond… And then a sort of sick understanding paled his features. She picked up trailing words from his unguarded thoughts. 

_Old SEEDs ship… Generator… Must have…_

"Knives…" she breathed. 

He turned to her with more fear in his face than when he'd been in hell. "Meryl…" he stammered, taking in her wet hair, and clean skin. "You bathed in the pond… Drank its water?" 

Nod. "Of course I did. That's what it was there for, wasn't it?" 

He turned ashen, and the sapphire hue of his icy eyes glistened. He looked like he was two seconds away from falling in the dirt and wailing, as though she'd just died right in front of him. Her stomach in knots, Meryl grabbed his arm. 

"What is it?" she asked, shaking him. "You're scaring me, Knives!" 

"The water," he choked through a constricting throat, grimacing in anguish. "The water was radioactive."


	17. Chapter 17

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Vash sat in the hall outside of the lab room where Milly's and Meryl's voices trailed in muffled sounds through the door. His elbows were resting on drawn-up knees, with his back against the cold metal wall. Fisted hands, grinding teeth, crying eyes… He tried to purge himself of violent thoughts, but the visual of punching Knives in the face kept popping up in the forefront of his mind. If his brother hadn't been so miserable himself, he most surely would have. 

It was a heady cocktail of anguish and rage. A familiar cocktail. Potent. Overwhelming. And there had always been just one person responsible for making him feel like he wanted to see blood, weep to the heavens, and self-destruct all at once. 

_Knives, you bastard. How could you be so careless!?_

The radioactivity served as a battery to their kind. It must have lit Knives right up. He should have noticed. Knowing the old SEEDs ship was there, he should have considered the possibility of a disintegrated generator contaminating the water table before he even... 

Vash cringed again, stifling a whimper. The memory of Angela's choked, stammering words replayed over in his head. _It's…it's everywhere. In her lungs. Her stomach. Her skin is weakening, and will start to grow sores soon. She might have a month. I don't know._

A choked sob lodged in his throat, and he scrunched his eyes shut and banged his head softly against the wall. The door swooshed open, and closed shut. He didn't even look up, recognizing the overalls in his peripheral vision as Milly's. She hesitated when she saw him. On any other occasion he would have greeted her with a smile, but at the moment, she didn't even get an acknowledgement. 

She paused. He knew she was looking at him. Could feel her eyes on his crown. Could feel her sympathy. Without a word, she knelt down between his knees, leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. He resisted. "Milly…" 

She said nothing, and held him tighter. Before too long, he gave in, soaking her shirt with his frustrated tears. "All he had to do was love her," he spoke roughly, venting. "I trusted him." 

"I know," she whispered. 

"If I knew that he'd just end up killing her, I would have never--" his voice hitched and he buried his face in her bosom. "I've seen death. I've caused it. I expect it. But not this time," he cried. "Not _her_!" 

Caressing hands stroked his hair and back. "Vash…" Her voice didn't waver. She was in perfect control. A pillar of strength. He envied it. 

"The treatments for cancer have been lost, and even if we could somehow duplicate them in the days that remain, it's too far progressed. And she can't be healed like a plant angel, because the radiation we use for that process is the very thing that's killing her! How can you be so strong at a time like this, Milly?" he asked bewilderedly, pulling his tear-streaked face back to stare at the dry, blue eyes of his co-worker. "How!?" 

She smiled reassuringly at him, in a way that only Milly could. Her response was simple, but it left him speechless with its profundity. 

"Because she's alive." 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

The human stomach and its neighboring vital organs floated in a luminescent blue hologram above the panel. It was vivisected, angled and magnified as Knives studied another simulated progression of the disease. The visual taunted him. Made his heart hurt. He was a genius. Almost 150 years of meticulous planning, study and invention – yet not a single minute of that had been dedicated to curing human diseases. 

Another intermittent anxiety attack tightened his chest. 

He grimaced it away as his fingers tapped harshly on the panel, blipping the hologram about, and pulling up raw data on its contents. The cursed file was no different from the rest. They all covered the gruesome symptoms. Treatments. But not for something this big. His Meryl was saturated with it. She needed a _cure_. But there was no cure, and the chances of him inventing one in time… 

_Shit. I don't even know where to begin…_ Another set of chronic tears leaked out of his eyes, and he absently wiped them away. The light of the panel was starting to make him see dots, and his peripheral vision blackened. They'd been back a day and a half, and he'd spent the entire time up here in a blind panic, searching… 

_I can't… I can't lose her!_

"_There_ you are!" 

Nerves raw, Knives jumped and swiveled towards the door as Meryl came bursting through it with her hands in fists. The circles under her eyes had started to darken, and she looked more pale, less frightened, and more irate than when he saw her last. Her pacing was slightly uneven as she marched up to him, and he reflexively stood to steady her, but she jabbed her finger in his chest, making him sit back down. 

She was still a firecracker, despite her condition. His eyes watered again, realizing how much he loved her spunk. He loved everything about her. In the days that lay ahead, her life essence would continue to ebb… 

"Will you stop looking at me like I'm dead!?" she yelled, leaning forward to roughly rub the tears off his cheeks. He let her. 

"I'm sick of it!" 

His jaw hung part open, as his miserable face tilted back to meet hers. Thoughts of losing her wouldn't dislodge from the forefront of his mind, and the regrets came pouring forth, unchecked. _If only I'd listened to her, and rested before edifying the oasis. I would have noticed. If only I'd checked the weather… If only--_

"If only, if only, if only! I _know_ you're sorry. Yes, you should have listened. And I'm angry with you, alright?" she shouted, wagging a finger in his face. "Furious! But it doesn't mean I want you holed up here for the rest of my days!" 

"…I'm trying to find a treatment. I have to find a treatment," his voice wavered, and his jaw muscles jumped. "I can't bear the thought of losing--" 

"I know that. I understand that. But if these last few tolerable days are spent being robbed of your presence while I still have the capacity to enjoy it, then I'll be a damn bitter ghost." 

His vision blurred again. He didn't even try to hide it from her. She was his salvation. She'd rescued him both from hell and insanity. His inability to cope with this was overwhelming. She wanted to be with him, and he wanted her to live. He couldn't give up searching for a cure… But before he could express that, she grabbed him by the ears, tugged his face up and kissed him. He made a small, startled noise against her mouth, and she plunked in his lap before he could start apologizing again, and caged him against the back of his chair. 

She succeeded in distracting him from his tunnel vision, and his hands gradually found her waist as he relived the closeness that was still so new between them. When his limbs had relaxed, she moved her lips to his ear and spoke with a soft desperation that made him buckle. "Will you be able to love me in the days that remain?" 

A choked whisper. "_Yes._" 

"Then marry me." 

His eyes widened, teared, and spilled over. He nodded. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

Meryl slid the bathroom door shut quietly, with one last peek at the slumbering plant angel in her bed. The moonlight that cascaded through the atrium window reflected off his shimmering skin, still damp with sweat. He was sprawled in the sheets, half-exposed with his head peacefully lolled to the side…chest rising and falling with deep regulated breathing. He was out. Granted, after the last few hours, he damn well should be. 

The door clicked shut, and she leaned back against it, staring at the ceiling in bewilderment. _What the hell is going on? I couldn't even tolerate his touch the few evenings before last…_

She ran her tongue across a kiss-swollen lip, and went over their nocturnal hours together since that rushed ceremony 21 days ago. She'd been relieved that he'd at least taken a few hours away from his research to give her his nights. But the first week of being with Knives had hurt. A great deal. It was awkward, and painful, and it boggled her mind how two people could fit together like that when things obviously _didn't_ fit. She'd hold her breath, and grit her teeth, enduring it. And not wanting to cause her anymore pain, he was a weepy mess, but she made him go through with it anyways, believing it would get better…craving to enjoy that closeness with him before it was no longer possible. 

And she was right. By the second week, she finally understood what the big deal was as her body finally acclimated to his intimacy. But days later the cancer had progressed from chronic exhaustion and soreness to an extremely uncomfortable state. She couldn't keep much down after that, and chrnoic nosebleeds had ruined most of her clothes. Her skin's itchiness evolved into open wounds, and she began to have bouts of vomiting blood coupled with difficulty breathing, and outright fainting. Soon she couldn't even let him hold her without it hurting. 

Depression had started to set in then. It set in for everyone. Vash could no longer even force a smile at that point, his eyes leaking whenever he was in the room. Angela and her sisters worried over her wakeful moments constantly, their distress more spiritually debilitating than Meryl's disease. And Knives – when he wasn't holed up in his control room searching for a reversal of the cancer that was killing his wife – he was sitting miserably by her side, unable to even make eye contact or look her in the face. His constant apologies and agony were swallowing her whole. Even little Kylie couldn't lift his spirits. Or anyone's for that matter. 

Meryl didn't realize what an emotional backbone she'd been for the whole community until she saw it start to fall apart because of her condition. If it weren't for Milly, who for some reason seemed to have a different perspective, Meryl might have resorted to something drastic to end her pain so they all could move on. Her old comrade had become the pillar of support. For everyone. Especially Vash. Thank heavens, because the cancer had rendered Meryl utterly useless. 

Then, suddenly...it stopped getting worse. 

Days passed. She endured. No progression, no digression. Her abdomen still hurt, she still felt and looked frail, still bled from places she shouldn't be bleeding... A plateau of consistent, but not _worsening_ pain. 

Then yesterday morning, she'd awoken with less agony. Much less. She was actually able to keep breakfast down. And lunch. The food gave her energy, and the energy made her want to do things she hadn't been able to do in days. Not a single bloody nose. She hadn't fainted since the night before. The pessimist in her was drawing parallels to the calm before a sandstorm, and figured she'd enjoy it before the awful death claimed her life. 

And enjoy it, she did. 

Meryl paused in front of the mirror, leaning in until her nose was an inch away from its reflective surface. Aside from a flushed face, her visage seemed less ailed. Still thin, but not gaunt. She could see the purple dots against the lavender prisms of her irises. The whites of her eyes were actually white, and not streaked with red. Her skin, which had begun to look sallow, and yellow, seemed to have a healthy sheen restored to its ivory paleness. And the half dozen sores on her arms and legs… 

_My word… Are they scabbing over?_

_The lighting. Must be the lighting,_ she thought reflexively. But the lighting didn't explain several hours of fun she'd just had, when _she'd_ been the one doing most of the work! Knives probably thought her sudden randy behavior was some subconscious attempt to choose the time and manner in which she died. He kept treating her like she was made of glass, repeatedly stopping to ask, 'Are you sure? Are you sure? This isn't hurting you? Are you sure?'. 

Meryl rolled her eyes, reflecting back. She wasn't trying to commit suicide, for crying out loud. She was just in the mood. She placed a hand on her stomach. The soreness…she'd forgotten about it. And her lungs…her breathing was regular. _It must have attacked my nervous system, and killed some of the nerves,_ she thought. _That's why it doesn't hurt as much now…_

Yet she could still feel the coolness against her skin, and the circulating air against her bare legs. Meryl focused on her reflection one more time…on the disheveled "after" look of her hair. It hung about her face and shoulders like an obsidian mop. Knives liked it messy. He actually said so, last week. She ran her right hand through it, pulling it back from her face… 

And froze. 

_What the…?_

She looked more closely. At the base of her roots…her hair…her perfectly black hair was turning white. Intrigued fingers sifted through the strands, realizing that it was only affecting the top half of her head, ears up. She plucked a hair out and studied its base, where the discoloring was occurring. No more than 1/8th of an inch, but definitely white. And not white and kinky. White and healthy. The small fraction of the hair that had lost its color didn't seem like it was dying… 

She met her own eyes in the mirror. _Is this a symptom?_ She glanced at the shower and then glanced at the door. Curiosity mingled with a barely contained hope. She archived it long enough to take a much-needed shower, and then threw a quick robe on over her still-wet body and turned off the light. 

Opening the door, she could hear Knives' deep breathing. She was going to sneak out, but seeing him laying there, so vulnerable and naked and warm and slumbering… 

_Just one more kiss_… 

She walked softly across the floor and knelt on the bed over him, resting her fingers on his hip as she leaned down to brush her lips over his. 

He gasped lightly at her touch, misinterpreting her intent. With a clumsy haste, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away from that region, flattening it against his chest while making a sound somewhere between an apology and a whimper. "It's s-s-sensitive…" 

She stifled a chuckle, blushing. "Relax. I was just going to kiss you." 

"Mmm.." He lifted his chin, and she did so. 

"I'll be right back." 

"Are you... How d'you feel? Shouldn't you lie down? Wh-where are y'going?" 

She met the inquiries with a casual lie. "I'm just hungry. Go back to sleep." 

Too exhausted to argue, he sank back down into the sheets, and she walked briskly out. It was around midnight, as she sauntered down the stairs and through the halls and chambers with more hurry than she could contain. Angela's cabin was on the other side of the ship, and not only were they friends – Angela knew human and angel anatomy better than any of them. 

_Don't get your hopes up, don't get your hopes up,_ Meryl chanted in a mantra as her bare feet brushed over the soft grass. Her legs wanted to run, so she let them. But her quick movement caught the eye of a certain individual who had been camped out by the small waterfall, staring up out the window. He must have been unable to sleep. 

She saw Vash, just as he saw her. Distracted, she stumbled, and he jumped up to catch her, actually making it in time with that super fast speed of his. His hair sagged about his brow, and he was in his pajamas, but his emerald eyes were wide and worried, and his hand gripped her arm. 

"Meryl…" 

Too impatient to explain things, and not wanting to get his hopes up, she quickly disengaged her arm from his grasp. "I'm fine. I just need to see Angela is all," she said brushing past him. He of course followed her, trotting behind like a worried puppy. 

"Wh…why?" 

She said nothing. They turned the bend, and she barely stopped herself in time to knock a warning before she opened the door and barged in. A form silhouetted black against the darkness sat up alarmed from her bed, and Meryl palmed the light. 

Angela's large, lashless black orbs blinked dumbly as they adjusted, and her horizontal teeth clicked like mandibles as she tried to orientate herself and cope with the sudden appearance of her two guests. 

"V-Vash? Meryl?" 

Vash, no less confused, simply shrugged. Meryl closed the door, and sat down next to the plant angel, rattling off in a hushed whisper. "I want you to check me." 

"Check…you?" 

"I want you to see where the cancer is at." 

Angela's face grew unbearably sad, and Meryl didn't even want to look at Vash. "Just do it. Please." 

After a heavy pause, Angela nodded, and scooted over, allowing Meryl to lay down flat on her bed with her limbs straight, and face held upright. Vash knelt down beside them, his worry mingling with something else as he studied her face. She caught his trailing thoughts as he finally noticed it. 

_She…she looks different…_

"Turn your head, Vash," Meryl said anxiously. "I'm not dressed under this." 

He hadn't even heard her. 

"Vash," she said more firmly. 

"Oh…" he forcefully looked at the wall as Angela slipped her hands in Meryl's robe, palming her chest with one hand and her abdomen with the other. Meryl adjusted the robe around her wrists. "Okay. I'm covered." 

He looked back, and Meryl held her breath as the tingling of Angela's anatomical reading began to tickle her skin. She watched the plant angel's face mutely, looking for any signs of recognition. Understanding. Horror. Anything… 

But instead, Angela's brow drew tight in the center, and she frowned at Meryl's torso. Sadness had given way to confusion. Her warm, long hands moved from spot to spot; over her heart, ribs, neck, and scalp. More frantic. More searching. She noticed the whitening hairline, pushing Meryl's bangs back off her face. "Your hair…" 

"I know." 

"How do you feel?" she inquired. 

Meryl paused. "Good," she uttered in disbelif, finally saying it outloud. "I feel good." She actually _heard_ Vash's heart beat quicken, and had a moment's regret. _If this doesn't turn out to be what I think it is, then it'll be like telling him I'm dying all over again…_

Angela opened her mouth to say something, then she closed it, pursed her lips, and eyed Meryl seriously. She'd picked up on something. Meryl could see it in her face. 

"What? What is it?" Meryl breathed, trying to sit up. 

Angela pushed her back down. Her face a sudden mask. "Just…stay still. And be silent. Both of you. I want to monitor you for at least an hour. I want to be sure…" 

"Sure? Of what?" Meryl asked. 

"What's happening?" Vash echoed. 

Angela shook her head mutely. She wasn't divulging anything yet, no doubt unwilling to raise or dash any hopes until whatever it was, was confirmed. Meryl understood the situation, and forced her fidgeting limbs to be still. It was probably the longest hour of her life. Angela closed her eyes and fell into a state of meditation, and Meryl felt her subtle probes observing and lingering in places that had previously been so sore. Her thoughts didn't stray far from this moment, and the anticipation was killing her. 

She wasn't the only one. A warm callused hand nudge her wrist a few minutes in, and she turned to see her emotions mirrored in perfect clarity on Vash's anxious face. He tried to smile reassurance for her, but it didn't quite make it up to his distressed eyes. Looking at him like that, by her side, supporting her in this moment…it suddenly struck her how much they had never talked about. 

Regarding them. 

There were unspoken confessions, and old sentiments never quite expressed. And after everything Knives had told her out in the desert about Vash… She could've brought it all up. They could have had that conversation that she'd yearned to have for so many years. 

But...was it still necessary? 

Her feelings were at peace. She no longer felt like their potential was sadly unrealized when she looked at him. Their relationship no longer needed a mutual attraction for her to feel it was complete…because it _was_ complete. Just like this. Unique and special and significant. Love, without the necessity of being _in_ love. No less strong, and no less real. 

She had no regrets…just a nostalgic wistfulness over a what-might-have-been. She flipped her hand up and curled her fingers through his. For all the things never said… 

He picked up on something, and slowly straightened as they locked stares. Meryl smiled ruefully from her spot on the pillow and squeezed his hand. _Life has already moved us beyond the point of saying it, hasn't it, Vash?_

Mild surprise opened his features, and then the little boy in him seemed to disappear. He squeezed her hand tightly in return, saying more with his expression than he could ever say with words. _Yeah..._

_You know I love you,_ she said. 

His bottom lip began to quiver. His face scrunched, and eyes watered. 

Meryl snorted. _Oh, for heaven's sake. Don't cry about it!_

Sniff. Squeak. "ILOVEYOUTOO!!" 

Shhhh!" Angela snapped. 

Vash hiccupped and swallowed it down, wiping his face on the sheets, while Meryl started to shake with barely repressed giggles. 

"And you. Stop laughing," Angela reprimanded. 

"S-sorry," she said, and bit her tongue, reaching out to catch Vash's retracting hand before he could pull it away. She held it for support the rest of the hour, taking what little comfort she could in his steadfast presence - contemplating, and worrying, and waiting… 

It seemed endless, and she could no longer distract herself with anything. Then finally…_finally_ Angela withdrew her hands from Meryl's robe, and sat back on her heels, the tension ebbing away from her shoulders. Meryl's skin felt like it was tingling, and she wasn't sure if it was the aftereffects of the exam, or just dreaded anticipation. 

Vash gripped her hand until it hurt, but Meryl hardly noticed. "A-Angela?" she inquired, holding her breath. 

The plant angel inhaled deeply, pursed her lips and the mask of concentration started to fall. Those giant black orbs shimmered like spilled oil, and she nodded the affirmative. 

"Well?" Meryl and Vash asked in unison. 

"It's morphing your body to accommodate its growth. It's emulsifying the cancer into raw energy." 

"What?" Meryl cried. "What is!?" 

Angela smiled warmly. "The baby." 


	18. Chapter 18 End

**A/N:** Don't panic if you see less chapters! I went through and revised some of the story, combining the shorter installments to make it less tedious. Everything is still there! Just...condensed. :P 

* * *

**Chapter 18 **

He'd run at his top speed from the South end of the ship to the West end. Vash's heart was thrumming, and his vocal cords were all tied up with tears. He threw himself against Milly's door, and pounded on it loudly. 

THUD THUD THUD 

"Milly!" 

THUD THUD THUD 

Too impatient to wait, he opened the door and hopped in her cabin. The hall light illuminated her sleepy figure, just now sitting up in bed. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were puffy with sleep. She squinted at him, and then cocked her head in inquiry. 

"Vash?" 

Too giddy to be coherent, the words came tumbling out without explanation or adornment. "Merylispregnantandthebabyishealingher!" 

She straightened in distress, noticing his tears. "What is it? What's happened?" 

"I'mgoingtobeanuncle!" he cried, and then she yelped surprise as he plucked her from her sheets and spun her in the air. After three dizzying twirls, he dropped her to her feet, hands still clutching her waist. "She's gonna live. Meryl's going to live!" 

Understanding softened the alarmed expression on her pretty face. The corners of her mouth started to lift with his contagious elation. "Ah. For a moment, I thought you were bringing me awful news!" 

"No! No! It's GREAT news!" 

Her eyes disappeared in her smile. "It is!" 

She said it, unsurprised. Didn't even ask the details. As though she knew all along. But that was Milly. Always seemed to know things no one else did. His bottom lip quivered, considering her support, her quiet faith, her never-failing good nature, and her mystery. 

He sniffled, and his eyes scrunched. "THANK YOU!" 

She blinked largely. "For what?" 

Vash wiped his cheeks, and with all the unchecked emotion from the news of Meryl's well-being, he found himself acting on an outrageous impulse that he normally wouldn't have - and for all of Milly's enigmatic foresight, she apparently didn't see this one coming, because the girl froze outright as he cupped her face in his right hand, tilted it back and smacked her right on the lips. 

She squeaked shock against his mouth, but he lingered there long enough to taste the delightful traces of the citrussy lip balm she'd put on before going to bed. Then he pulled back, winked, and brought a hand up to ruffle her hair. 

"For everything!" 

She stared at him as though he'd lost his mind, raising a tentative hand to her violated lips. Vash laughed, waved, and hurriedly skipped out before his ecstatic mood did anything else that might get him in trouble. 

Their Meryl was going to live. All of Eden needed to know! 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

A lethargic hand reached across the mattress out of reflex…long fingers swiping against thin air and cool sheets to draw its other occupant close. But its other occupant was missing. 

Still. 

Knives sat up in bed, cursing his inability to stay awake until she returned. The worrying ache that he'd grown so accustomed to came charging back with his consciousness, quickening his heartbeat and making his blood race. _Dammit. Where is she?_ After the night they'd just had, for her to disappear for – he looked at the clock on the wall – for over an hour! He swore again, and fumbled for his pants in the darkness, finding them and slipping them on. She might be passed out somewhere. Might be suffocating from the tumors closing her windpipe. She might be… 

He leapt up and all but ran out of their chamber, shoulder hitting the doorframe on his way. He spun into the hallway, lunging towards the stair well when Meryl suddenly emerged from it, dressed in nothing but her bathrobe. 

He came to an abrupt stop, barely catching himself in time to keep from knocking her over. "M-Meryl!" 

Tranquilly, she tilted her head back to lock stares with him. And the way she was smiling… So carefree. Like an angel. For a frenzied moment, he thought she _was_ an angel, and his stomach dropped. His breath caught, and he reached trembling hands up to touch her face, her hair, her shoulders, her sides to make sure she was real. She caught his fingers in her hands, laughing confusion at his panic. "Knives…" 

"Where have you been!?" his chest was tight, and he had difficulty forcing sound through it. The words came out in an uneven, strained cadence. "You shouldn't…w-wander about at night. Eden sleeps at night. No one would see you if you collapsed. Passed out. Started vomiting blood…" 

He stopped stammering as she lifted his wrist to her lips and kissed it, nuzzling his palm without taking her beautiful lavender eyes off his face. "There'll be no more vomiting blood, love. No more fainting. No more dying." 

Her words...so confusing. Nonsensical. Unless, she meant… "Whatever it is you're planning, I won't let you do it!" his voice hitched, and he grabbed her shoulders desperately. "I'll find a cure, Meryl. I swear I will!" 

She reached up and calmed him by placing a warm, reassuring hand on his face. "You already _have_ cured me, Knives." 

His face scrunched. Was he hearing her right? Before he could inquire, she took his hand and flattened it on her belly. He frowned confusion at her, and she directed his attention to her abdomen. 

"Can you feel it?" 

"Feel what?" 

"Angela said you might be able to pick up on it if you concentrated." 

"What 'it'!?" he said crazily. "Tell me!" 

Her grasp tightened as her eyes teared. "The babe in my womb that has saved my life so it can live." 

He stared dumbly. Mutely. _Babe. Womb. Life._ One miraculous thread of logic lead to another, growing with momentum until the simplicity of the solution smattered itself up in a psychological collage that explained everything. 

Knives' legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees, hand still on her belly, staring up through rapidly blurring vision at her brilliant countenance. His mouth fumbled over unformed words as she affectionately ran her nails along his scalp, tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth as her smile broadened. 

He could barely speak, his voice was so choked. "Are…are you sure?" 

Vigorous nod. She exhaled in an exhilarated laugh. 

His heart felt like it burst, and unable to contain the emotion he wrapped himself around her small frame like a big blubbering blanket, not caring that he was wetting her robe, and not caring that she was witnessing yet another one of his meltdowns. She merely cradled his head, whispering reassurances and I-love-yous until the early dawn light began to cascade through the windows, blanketing them both in an orange glow, signifying a new day. A new life. And a new future. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

**TEN MONTHS LATER**

_Oh, I am so totally busted!_

Wiping the sweat off his brow, Vash jogged briskly through Eden, looking frantically for his two-month old niece. He'd just turned his head for a second, and with her propensity for climbing things… 

"Bejya! Hey, Bejya!" 

His sister stopped in the middle of a class, her orphaned students giggling the second they saw Vash. Apparently he was a pretty funny guy, even when doing nothing. "Have you seen Tessla?" 

Bejya's inquiring look turned to one of a reprimand. "You lost her? _Again_?" 

The laughter increased. 

"I…well, Milly just got back from her three week trip, and," he shrugged helplessly. That should explain everything, shouldn't it? 

Bejya clicked her tongue, and shook her head in exasperation. "No, I haven't seen her. You'd better check—" 

"I see hewr," came a soft little voice with a thick speech impediment. They both swiveled their necks to look at little Kylie who was sitting cross-legged in front of Angela, getting an arrangement of baby's breath and daisies braided into her brunette hair. 

Angela's brow quirked, and she bent over the girl. "You've seen her? Where?" 

Kylie blinked hugely, and then pointed up at the ceiling. "Up thewre." 

They craned their necks. The escapee panicked when she was caught, and let out a squeal. 

"EEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" 

Vash's breath caught in his throat. "oh-Oh-OH!" he choked. "OH SHIT!" 

Bejya's jaw dropped, and one kid pointed, declaring the obvious. "Look at her! She's swinging from the vines!" 

The white-haired little bundle, the size of a 2-year old human child, had somehow scrambled up the vine-covered wall, and was currently dangling from the foliage. She was grinning hugely at Vash, quite taken with the phrase he'd just used. "Oh shit?" 

"No no, Tessla—" 

"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" 

"VAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSHHHH!" 

He gulped as Meryl came storming into the chamber, her angel-human hybrid hair bouncing about her shoulders like a black and white feather duster. Her lavender eyes were on fire, and her hands in fists. "I told you to watch your language around her!" 

"Well," he laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head, "You see—" 

"Up thewre!" Kylie piped up helpfully. 

Distracted, Meryl followed the young girl's line of sight, and both hands flung to her mouth as she audibly gasped. "T-T-TESSLA!" she screamed. "Getdownfromthere!" 

"Momma! Watch me! Watch me!" the child kicked her legs out to swing, when one of her hands slipped. The merry expression turned to wide-eyed panic as she barely caught herself by hooking a knee around a neighboring vine. Suspended, upside down, she began to cry. "I want _down_! Momma! _I want down_!" 

"Hold on, doll! We'll get ya!" In a panic, Meryl scanned the wall. 

"Those vines won't hold an adult," Bejya warned. "We'll have to catch her." 

Meryl whimpered, along with Vash. It was a thirty foot drop. The trick was to get her to let go. 

"Tessla!" Meryl cried. "We're going to catch you…no! WAIT!" 

Too late. No sooner had she said it than the trusting girl child unhooked her leg. Gravity stole her voice and yanked her down, limbs flailing. Everyone lunged forward, including Vash, but a blur knocked him to the side before he could reach her. He landed with a heavy thud, momentarily faded, and when he picked himself up off the floor, to his immense relief, Knives was crouched on the ground with Tessla curled tightly in his arms. 

Her enormous lilac eyes - so like her mother's - watered up. She clung to her daddy's neck and started to wail. Knives took a moment to glare at Vash in a way that promised a later flogging, and then his expression turned impossibly tender, like it always did when he was around his daughter. He cradled her against his chest, rocking her back and forth. "It's okay. You're safe. I got you…" 

Meryl reached them at that point, and knelt down to get a better look. When Tessla saw her mom, she threw her head back, hiccupped, squeaked. "P-p-poopie diaper!" 

"Oh no," Angela uttered nearby. "And they'd just finished potty training her a couple weeks ago. I hope this incident doesn't set her back." 

Meryl overheard it, and turned, eyes on Vash. "No, she _hasn't_ soiled her breeches," she said heatedly. "Thanks to Vash's dynamic reaction to a diaper change when she was 3 weeks old, she now associates 'Poopie Diaper' with _every_ bad situation!" 

Little Tessla, not getting her momma's attention, bawled out another phrase that equated disaster in her innocent little mind, "Momma! I...I think I started my period!" 

Meryl turned to give her loves, and Vash stifled a guffaw, silently thanking whatever menstruating orphan girl that had indirectly shifted the blame off him, if only for a moment. "Ha! Ha! Ain't no WAY I taught her that one!" 

The anxiety simmered down as he sat from his undignified spot in the dirt, watching his brother's family. Knives, Meryl, Tessla, all entwined in each other's well being, on the floor. He tried to put into words what he'd felt so many times before. That there was definitely something there. A void filled. A purpose given, when Tessla had been born. If he looked closely enough, he saw the ties that bound them together. Literally. Faint, luminescent cords that wrapped around the three like ethereal serpents, connected on every angle. It wasn't the first time he got the impression that they were now part of something bigger than them all. And it had nothing to do with Meryl's permanently altered physiology, or the promise of a sustained life for each of them. It was that their family itself was like a structure of eternity. That it would somehow transcend time. Even death. That they would be together, forever. 

He couldn't explain it. He didn't have to. He just felt it. 

**

* * *

**

. 

. 

Large, bemused eyes watched from the entrance. Observing. Pensive. Nostalgic. After a minute, the child's crying stopped, and she began to jabber wildly about her exploits on the ceiling. Bejya went back to teaching, and Angela went back to braiding as the crisis wound down, and the mom and dad carried their mischievous daughter out of the chamber. Bits of their conversation could be heard before they disappeared into the hallway. 

"Next time you want to do that, you need to tell an adult, okay?" the mom persisted. 

"Right! Next time, Uncle Vash can climb with me!" 

The dad snorted, but said nothing. 

The mom sighed. "Tessla, Tessla, Tessla…" 

The name rang out, and hung in the air like a fragile memento. Just like it had on the day the child was born. It was familiar, somehow connected to dim memories that she'd once thought were nothing more than faded dreams...just the mention of it finally piercing a veil that had always been closed. 

Things that had never been quite clear had become clear. And understanding, although vague, had also come. And then she knew with a clarity that her unique intuition and uncanny foresight hadn't been a gift. They'd been part of her long before she was even born. 

_My soul is old…_

"Yo, Milly!" 

Vash jumped up and jogged over when he saw her there. She liked it when he smiled at her. She liked his smile. 

He stopped an inch from her, emerald eyes drinking in her face, her figure, her whole presence. Their conversation had been interrupted when she pointed out that his young charge was missing. "You done unpacking yet?" 

"I haven't quite made it back to my cabin," she smiled. 

"Ah, you saw the incident, then? Boy, that kid…" he shook his head and then laughed. "I feel sorry for Rem. She had _two_ little hybrid squirts running around, causing havoc. I'll have to tell you about her some time, now that everything's okay. I'll have to tell you about Tessla too. The being that Knives named his daughter after…" 

_Ah, but I already know about that one, Vash dear…_ Milly quickly threw up her practiced mask of obliviousness – that learned response she taught herself all those years ago after scaring one too many people with her eerie insights into their lives. 

He quirked a brow. "I saw that. You're hiding something from me." 

_Ah, Vash..._ "Me?" 

He eyed her knowingly, and slid both hands about her waist, pulling her close. She umphed against his chest, and got goosebumps as he bent his head, resting his lips against her ear. "One of these days I'll figure you out, Miss Milly." 

She blushed. He always made her blush. "And if there's nothing to figure out?" 

"Then it'll be fun trying." 

. 

. 

.

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**Thanks for reading, guys. **

** Thunk **


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